


Stirrings

by chibistarlyte



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibistarlyte/pseuds/chibistarlyte
Summary: John Watson has retired as the Kalos League Champion after an unfortunate battling accident. In this transitional period of his life, he meets Sherlock Holmes of Kanto who has relocated to Lumiose City on a case. With recent stirrings of the criminal mastermind Jim Moriarty, Sherlock and John must stop him before he brings chaos to all the regions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD I'M DOING IT. I'M FINALLY POSTING THIS HOLY SHIT.
> 
> I started writing this fic for NaNoWriMo 2014. And though I only got about 13k words in, I haven't stopped plotting and planning and editing what I have so far. I've been debating for ages about posting this, but it's been two and a half years and I think it's time. I haven't been active in the Sherlock fandom for a long while, especially since graduating college a year and a half ago. And I'm hoping that by posting the first couple chapters that I do have written, it'll spur me on to continue writing this.
> 
> As said above, I started this in 2014, so unless I decide while writing, this will not include any new characters or things introduced in season four. I took inspiration from both the Pokemon anime and the video games to create the plot and attempt to smooth out things like battling and placement of the regions, for example. The premise, though, was partially inspired by the Detective Looker chapters at the end of X&Y. Serebii has saved my life while planning this fic!!! I have put more planning and research into this fic than anything I've ever written, so I have a LOT of things to say about it! If you find me on tumblr at chibistarlyte, I'd love to chat with y'all! I also made a sideblog for this fic if it gains enough traction, so I can post character art and all that stuff there if people are interested! 
> 
> Also, at this point in time, I am out of a beta. So aside from my several revisions, this fic will not be beta'd unless I find someone in the meantime. Please feel free to point out any errors! My brother did look over this for me a long while ago, too, which I appreciate very much!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy my Pokelock fic!

“Hey, John!”

John turned his head towards the source of the call, giving a little wave. At his feet, Eevee gave a small excited yip.

“Hullo, Mike,” he greeted his approaching friend, thrusting his right hand out for a shake. Mike took it in a firm grip.

“Sorry I’m late, mate,” the pudgy man apologised. “The Center was a bit busy earlier.”

Letting go of Mike’s hand, John gave his old friend an understanding smile. “Quite all right. I wasn’t waiting long.”

Mike laughed suddenly at the little Pokémon pawing at the leg of his trousers, crouching down to give Eevee a firm scratch or two behind her ears. She mewled and rubbed against Mike’s hand. “Good to see you too, Eevee.”

Once Eevee had her fill of scratches and pets—with John smiling fondly at the whole thing—Mike stood up and gestured to the door of Café Kizuna. “Well. Shall we?”

John gave a silent nod and followed his friend inside with Eevee ever at his heels.

Now that they were settled in at their table, drinks ordered and on the way, a silence fell between them. John felt a little lost, unable to look at his friend and instead watching the other patrons, albeit disinterestedly. It’d been a long time since he’d had time to do…well, since he’d had any semblance of free time. Now that he was here, enjoying a quick meet-up with an old pal, he couldn’t help but feel a little…out of place. Bored. Idle.

Eevee sat in the chair next to him, paws up on the table as she contentedly lapped up sweet milk from the bowl in front of her. Another small smile graced John’s lips—he’d been doing a lot of that quiet, fond smiling lately. Having Eevee was a blessing, considering the drastic turn his life had recently taken.

After their drinks arrived, Mike leveled him with a serious stare and broached the topic that neither of them wanted to talk about.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked. John appreciated that Mike was trying to be nonchalant about it, not sounding too sympathetic. But there was no hiding the genuine concern in his friend’s voice.

Giving a one-sided shrug—it still stung a little to move his left shoulder—John said, “It’s getting better. Slowly.” He took a long swig of his milk tea. Why was his mouth so dry? “All the poison’s been flushed out. Now it just needs time to heal.”

“Any permanent damage?”

Eevee nudged his hand, and John gave her a pet. “There’s been a lot of nerve damage that I’ll probably never fully recover from.” It sort of shocked John how easily he was detaching himself from the situation. He hadn’t spoken this candidly about the incident to anyone, except maybe Mary when she’d visited him in hospital. “But otherwise, I’ll be functioning normally. Eventually,” he added.

Mike looked thoughtful as he let this information sink in. John watched him stir his coffee.

“Is the League looking to the incident?” came his next question. John thought he would be annoyed by now with the pseudo interrogation, but he was finding that he already felt better being able to talk everything out with a friend.

He sipped his drink and nodded. “They still don’t know what caused the attack, but it’s under investigation. All League activities have been suspended in the meantime, until they find my replacement.”

Mike stilled. “Replacement?”

“Yeah. I’m retiring,” John said, probably more lightly than he should have. Eevee rubbed her head against his arm in silent support.

A heavy silence settled in as Mike digested the information he’d been given. He gave a decisive nod and a small smile. “Well. You have my support, mate. I know this is going to be a big change for you.”

“Tell me about it.”

Sure, John had made the decision to retire himself, but he hadn’t given much thought to his plans…well, after the fact. He’d been reigning Kalos Champion for the last seven years. The league was his  _ life _ . Now that it wasn’t, he had no idea what he wanted to do with himself. He could still become a mentor—most retired Gym Leaders or League members took on that role to help coach the new generation, so to speak.

But what to do with the rest of his time while he healed?

“Hey,” Mike spoke up, drawing John out of his thoughts. “Why don’t you stop by the Pokémon center on North Boulevard sometime? Molly and I could use your help now and again—if you’re interested.”

That…actually didn’t sound like too bad of an idea, John thought. If anything, it would give him something to do that wasn’t too labor-intensive or difficult on his still-mending shoulder. Eevee had crawled into his lap by that point and was looking up at him. Her wide brown eyes were imploring, as if she were reading his thoughts. John stoked the fur around her neck, tossing over the offer in his head.

“Sure. That might be nice,” he agreed after a minute. Eevee yipped in excitement.

Conversation flowed a little easier after that. John and Mike talked about some less serious goings-on—the fireworks show at Parfum Palace next week, Professor Sycamore traveling to Johto for a few days to be a guest speaker on Professor Oak’s radio show, and the like. John felt a small pang of longing for his hometown of Goldenrod City at the mention of Oak’s radio show, but it quickly dissipated. Maybe he could visit for a little while his newfound time off?

It was all too soon that Mike had to rush back to work—“Sorry, mate, gotta dash!”—and John found himself staring down Hibernal Avenue long after his friend had disappeared. He picked Eevee up after she started pawing at his leg and she cuddled into him instantly.

Yes, his life was changing pretty drastically now. But if there was anything he prided himself on, it was his ability to adjust. To adapt.

And even though things were a bit dull at the moment, John still had hope that things would get better. His mind was going through the healing process just as much as his shoulder was. It would just take time.

He had more than enough of that on his hands now.

* * *

“Oh, you have no idea how much you’re helping us out,” Molly told John on his first day as Pokémon center desk attendant. His job was easy enough—greet trainers, take their Pokémon and place them in the rejuvenation machine to healed, and help them with any additional requests. But even the easiest work could become difficult when understaffed. “It just gets so busy here some days…”

“It’s no problem,” John assured her with the kindest smile he could muster. Eevee chirped in agreement.

That was a bonus, too; Molly let Eevee accompany John to work. It helped that Eevee got along swimmingly with Molly’s Chansey and Blissey.

Molly tucked a few loose strands of her chestnut hair behind her ear. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you need help, just page my extension.” With a parting smile, she disappeared through the double doors leading to the back of the center and left John to man the desk alone.

John smiled at the antics of his companion—Eevee was strutting her stuff atop the counter and cooing happily. Really, she was almost more excited about the job than John himself was.

The sliding doors whirred open, causing both John and Eevee to look up. Two young trainers, a boy and girl, came running in carrying Poké Balls in their small hands. They ran right up to the counter and set their Poké Balls down.

“Can you heal our Pokémon, mister?” the girl asked, staring up at John with wide, innocent eyes.

Taking there Poke Balls and placing them on a tray, John nodded. “Sure thing.” Seeing these two young trainers reminded him of his own youthful days, setting out on his Pokémon journey. Pretty soon, they’d obtain all eight of their gym badges and challenge the Elite Four, and finally the Champion—

Frowning, John pressed the button on the machine a little too hard. He had to stop that train of thought in its tracks before he upset himself getting lost in nostalgia.

The machine hummed, lights blinking and flashing as it healed the injured Pokémon inside their Poké Balls. When it dinged its completion, John removed the tray and set it down on the counter. “Here you are, kiddos,” he said with his best smile.

The trainers gathered their Poké Balls and stored them in their knapsacks. The boy stared at John for a few moments before a spark of recognition lit up his face.

“Hey, mister, are you John Watson? Champion John Watson?!” the boy asked excitedly.

The girl took his cue and studied John’s face until she came to same conclusion. “You are him, aren’t you?!”

John almost didn’t know how to respond. So he just shrugged, trying not to wince as his left shoulder protested the movement. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The boy jumped up and down excitedly, grabbing onto the girl’s arm. “You’re my hero! I watch your matches on TV all the time! It’s because of you that I decided to be a Pokémon trainer!”

Words wanted to crawl their way up John’s throat, but he just stood there speechless.

The girl leaned as far as she could over the counter, which wasn’t too far considering how little she was, standing up on her tiptoes to gain some height. “We’ll get to battle you someday, right?”

And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. John gave a sort of sad smile and said, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Can we see you again here?” the boy asked, hands balled into fists and eyes shining with anticipation. The girl looked much the same.

“Of course,” John replied, his smile turning a bit more genuine at their enthusiasm. “Until then, you better keep training hard, yeah?”

“We will!” the kids promised in unison, waving to John as they dashed out the door and into Lumiose City proper. John watched them go, still not a hundred percent sure what had just happened.

He startled when Eevee nuzzled against him, offering him some kind of comfort. Stroking her soft fur, the former Champion let out a breathy laugh. Well, for as mundane as the job seemed at first, it was starting to look a bit more exciting now.

* * *

Letting out a long breath, John leaned tiredly against the counter. Right next to him, Eevee all but collapsed on the countertop, utterly exhausted. That rush had lasted almost an hour—trainers coming in non-stop needing their Pokémon healed after battling at Lumiose Gym.

Clemont must be on a roll today, John had thought during the whole thing. Surprising he was actually at the gym for once.

When the automatic doors to the center slid open, John almost groaned. Instead, he schooled his expression to a relaxed, calm one and turned to face the newcomer.

He was a tall man dressed in dark colours, a shock of curls just as dark atop his head. Piercing silver eyes stared at him from their placement above extremely sharp cheekbones. His stride oozed confidence, while his facial expression spoke of intelligence. Aloofness. Coldness.

John barely found his voice before the man reached the counter. “Welcome to the North Boulevard Pokémon Center,” he managed. “How can I help you?”

The stranger deposited six different balls onto the countertop—not a single plain Poké Ball among them—and stared up at John expectantly. Wordlessly, John scooped up the balls and placed them meticulously on the metal tray. Silence ensued as he slid the tray into the rejuvenation machine and pressed a few buttons to start it up. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end—he could swear he felt the weight of the stranger’s gaze on his back, prickling his skin like the needles on a Sandslash’s back.

John forced down a shudder.

The familiar beep of the machine echoed in the quietness of the lobby. John was pulling the tray from the machine when the dark-haired, sharp0-eyed stranger decided to speak.

“Poison Jab, was it?”

John froze, that deep voice vibrating through his core. Grip tight on the tray, still turned away, he gritted out, “How did you know—“

“It’s my business to know things.”

Maybe you should mind your own business, John thought bitterly. Unable to summon the courage to face the stranger, John swallowed hard. His knuckles turned white for how tightly he was holding the tray. It might’ve been snapped in two if it weren’t metal. Apparently, the stranger took John’s silence as a sign to continue with his damn near psychic observations.

“Your shoulder is stiff when you move. When you lifted the Poké Ball tray, you let your right arm pick up the slack from your left—you winced slightly before adjusting the tray’s weight to your stronger side. Your coloring is pale, too pale to be just lack of sunlight. And you don’t have naturally pale skin, because there’s still traces of a tan. There’s something else…an unhealthy tint to your complexion that suggests recent illness. Not just any illness—poisoning of some sort. Injury to shoulder, poisoning. Poison Jab. Rather easy conclusion to reach.”

Suddenly John felt lightheaded, like he might faint. His story had been released to no one.  _ No one _ . All the official reports spoke of the incident, sure, but the specific details had never been revealed to the public, staying within the private confines of the hospital and Pokémon League documentation centers. And it would stay that way, as far as John was concerned. But this man…

He knew, from just one look?

“Just who the hell are you?” John asked through gritted teeth.

“Sherlock Holmes,” that tenor voice answered. “I’m new to the area.” He paused, then added, “And I’d like my Pokémon back, if you don’t mind.”

Oh. Right. The Pokémon.

Steeling himself, John turned around and carefully set the tray on the countertop. He spared a glance at Eevee, who was now on full alert. She stood as if guarding John, but she regarded the stranger with what seemed more like curiosity than aggression.

Sherlock took his Poke Balls and stored them somewhere inside his black greatcoat. His movements were flowing and loose like water, yet so incredibly precise and focused. John couldn’t help but be impolite and stare.

He continues to stare even as Sherlock headed for the doors. As the glass panels slid open, John called out in a somewhat creaky voice, “Have a good day, Sherlock Holmes.”

The tall man paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder with an almost playful expression. “You too, John Watson.”

And with that he was gone, the doors closing behind him. John was left standing stock still behind the counter, staring at the ghost of a stranger who had seemingly turned his world upside down in a matter of minutes.

Something sang in John’s blood as it pumped through his veins. Something familiar in its fervor. The twinge of excitement had his skin tingling, his heart pounding in his chest like it used to be fore a battle.  The thrill of the unknown gripped him, held him in its clutches. And he let it.

Oh, how he missed this.

Eevee mewled at him, pawing at his arm to get his attention. Shaking himself out of his stupor, John set to work on cleaning up behind the desk a bit and readying the machine for the next trainer. As the day went on, with business picking up and dying down in waves, the encounter with Sherlock Holmes was pushed to the back of his mind.

But it was definitely not forgotten.

* * *

“Lunch breaks always seem way too short,” Mike complained as he lumbered from the break room into the lobby of the Pokémon Center. He slid his arms through the sleeves of his white medical coat. “Twenty minutes feel more like two.”

“Yeah,” John agreed half-heartedly as he typed up some emails on the computer. Now that some time had passed since his injury, the League had a list of possible candidates to take John’s position as Champion. They’d already gone through the interviewing process, made it through the preliminary battles, and passed the written exam. All that was left were the next stage of battles, and then—if they made it that far—the final test battle against John himself. The list itself was quite small, only five prospects, but John couldn’t help his smile when he recognized a name on the list.

Mary Morstan. Elite Four Member and his best friend.

She’d mentioned it to him when he was still in hospital, her trying out for the position of Champion. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d told her, doped up on various medications at the time and still ill from the effects of the poisoning, but it was probably something inspiring and heartfelt and encouraging.

And here she was, nearing the final stage. He couldn’t be more proud of her.

“You heading out soon?” Mike asked from where he was adjusting something on the machinery.

“Mhm, after I finish these last few emails,” John confirmed whilst typing. He paused for a moment, flexing his left hand a bit to dissipate the numbness. The doctor had told him because of the nerve damage that he’d suffered. The occasional numbing was to be expected. It didn’t bother him too much; it was just inconvenient sometimes.

“Hello! What can I do for you today?” he heard Mike say. John briefly glanced up and immediately wished he hadn’t. Approaching the counter in his elegant, cool manner was none other than Sherlock Holmes. In a moment of blind panic, John tried to duck down behind the computer monitor. Unfortunately, his sudden movements disturbed the sleeping Eevee in his lap and she yipped in surprise at being jostled about.

“Has there been a package left here for me?” Sherlock asked in that velvety voice of his. “The name is Sherlock Holmes.”

“Hm, John, can you check the database real quick, since you’re at the computer?” Mike asked, clearly unaware of the internal crisis John was having at the moment.

“Um…sure.” He fumbled with the mouse, clicking in the wrong place a few times before managing to open the delivery and pickup invoice. The entire time, he felt Sherlock’s eyes on him, just like before. Hadn’t anyone taught him how awkward it was to just stare intensely at people? It was almost like he was trying to set John’s head of fire with just one look, for Palkia’s sake.

“No…it doesn’t look like we have anything in for you,” John said, daring himself to look up and meet Sherlock’s gaze. His eyes were such a light blue, they were almost grey. Silver, as John suspected the first time. Alight with  _ something _ , though John had no idea what, and that just made him all the more curious.

Neither man broke their eye contact until Sherlock pivoted and stalked over to one of lounging sofas on the far side of the room. “I’ll just wait here for it, then,” he announced before unceremoniously flopping down on the larger sofa, propping his superhumanly long legs up on the coffee table.

John focused on writing his last couple emails, trying to ignore the fact that Sherlock was still staring at him. Sizing him up, maybe? It certainly felt like it. Either way, it was creepy and John didn’t really appreciate having someone’s undivided attention for an extended amount of time, warranted or not.

When he clicked ‘send’ on his last email, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. His left shoulder limited the extension of its accompanying arm, but John happily noted that its mobility had improved a little bit from before. He had to fight down a groan when he arched his back, his spine popped in all the right places.

“All right, Mike, I’m off for today,” he said. He scooped up a still-sleepy Eevee and rose from his seat in search of his coat. Eevee mewled quietly, yawning before fidgeting in John’s arms. Taking the rather obvious cue, John let Eevee down with light chuckle. “Fine, see if I hold you anymore.” He told his Pokémon jokingly. She just yipped in response and circled his legs as if purposely trying to trip him.

“Sounds good,” came Mike’s reply. “Thanks for your help, as always. Oh!” The doors to the center slid open and in came a young woman with poker straight black hair and a long, white coat. A lab assistant, then? She was toting a small package under her arm. “Can I help you?” the pudgy man asked kindly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The woman nodded. “Yes. I have a package for Sherlock Holmes.”

It was as if the simple mention of his name was a summoning technique of some sort. Sherlock practically materialized behind the assistant. “I believe that’s mine,” he said smoothly, and the woman let out a surprised yelp followed by a relieved sort of laugh.

“You have got to stop doing that, Sherlock,” she chided. “It’s creepy.”

John had to fight down a snort. Creepy didn’t even begin to describe Sherlock Holmes, from what he’d seen so far.

“You’re late, Ally,” Sherlock pointed out, changing the subject entirely. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised; you are Professor Elm’s least punctual assistant.”

“Well, I  _ would _ have been on time if they didn’t have Vernal Avenue closed off,” Ally said, rolling her eyes. “I had to take the long way around from Sycamore’s lab.”

“Why is Vernal Avenue closed off?” John asked without meaning to. He almost recoiled at his own verbal slip, but kept his eyes resolutely on the assistant. Never mind that Sherlock was watching him again.

“No clue,” Ally said, taking a moment to kneel and pet Eevee, who had trotted over to her seeking attention. “I heard rumors about a theft, but I don’t know why they’d close the whole street down for something as small as that.”

“Curious indeed,” Sherlock muttered to no one in particular, already heading for the door.

“But...your package!” Mike called too late. The doors slid shut with a sort of finality, Sherlock already long gone.

“He’s probably going to investigate, as usual,” Ally said as if this were all old hat, unsurprising that Sherlock would just up and leave in the middle of a conversation. She stood from her kneel and brought the package up to Mike at the counter. Eevee followed her, then detoured around the counter back to John. “I’ll just leave this here for him. He’ll be back for it later, I’m sure.”

“Roger that,” Mike said, taking the package and heading for the computer to update the invoice. “You headed out, John?”

“Uh…yes. Yeah,” John said hastily, slipping his arms thought the sleeves of his coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike,” And then he was out the door and on North Boulevard before he even heard a reply, Eevee in tow.

Now that he was outside, he had no idea what to do. By all that was logical and practical, he should just head home for the day. But he was curious about what happened down on Vernal Avenue. But then again, the news channels would probably be covering the story tonight on their six and ten o’clock broadcasts. He could just wait and find out then, from the safety of his own flat.

Apparently his feet didn’t agree with that reasoning, because they turned him left, the opposite direction of home. They turned left again down an alley where the Sushi High Roller restaurant was located. He just  _ had _ to find out what was going on.

“I had a feeling you’d turn up,” a familiar voice said from a few paces ahead.

John halted so fast, he nearly tripped over both his feet and Eevee, who hopped out of the way just in time. Standing before him was Sherlock, giving him that same calculating look the former Champion was starting to grow used to. But there was something else there…approval? Pleasant surprise? Whatever it was, it made his eyes glow and left John almost speechless.

Almost.

Just who was this man?

“You going to investigate, then?” John asked, doing all he could to keep his voice even.

“Naturally.” Sherlock turned so that he was looking at John over his shoulder. “Follow me. We can cut through the back alleys.”

And then he was off at a pretty brisk pace, not looking back as if he knew John would follow him regardless.

Of course, John did.

It was a little difficult to keep up with Sherlock’s long strides, John own legs being so much shorter, but he managed all right. Eevee had to keep a consistent trot to stay even with John, though she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed just as curious and excited about the prospect of adventure as John felt. Just as well—they hadn’t done many exciting things since the incident.

Speaking of…

“How did you know about my injury?” the former Champion asked, hoping for a better answer than the extremely detailed but unhelpful and invasive one he’d gotten before. “I mean…all those things you said…” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish his thought.

Sherlock still kept up the pace, the lines of his shoulders going slightly rigid. “I didn’t  _ know _ , I  _ saw _ . I observe details and by utilizing logic and deduction, I am able to form mostly correct conclusions about people or things based on the data presented to me.”

“Mostly correct?” John echoed, speeding up his steps so that he was even with Sherlock. He caught the tail end of a smirk on the taller man’s lips.

“I have been known to overlook a detail or two,” he said and left it at that.

And really, that should have been the end of it, but John wanted to know more about this enigmatic man walking next to him. So he pressed on.

“So, what brings you to Lumiose City?”

“A case,” Sherlock replied vaguely, waving his hand. “I’m a consulting detective, on special assignment right now. My current case has led me to Kalos.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Kanto. Saffron City, to be precise.”

“Not too far from me, then. Johto. Goldenrod City.”

“Yes, I can tell.”

John smiled despite himself. “Can I ask how?”

Sherlock smiled too, though it was more subdued. “You still have the slightest bit of an accent. Also, people from Johto tend to have a generally laid-back attitude and calm disposition, both of which you possess from first glance.” The detective then took a few moments to study John via sideways glance. “But you’ve also been to other regions, until you finally settled here and took over as Champion. You’ve held the position for…seven years, is it?”

John hummed in affirmation. “First non-native Kalos Champion in several decades,” he recited as if from a textbook.

“Though your injury has put you temporarily out of commission, which explains why you’re working at the Pokémon Center currently,” Sherlock pointed out, focusing on the street ahead.

“It’s not just temporary, though,” John supplied. “I’m stepping down.”

If John wasn’t mistaken, Sherlock actually  _ pouted  _ upon hearing this revelation. “Always something,” the detective muttered, which had the former Champion chuckling.

They didn’t have time to say much else, though; Vernal Avenue was right around the corner.

Along with cop vehicles everywhere, a fire truck, police tape, an ambulance, and rubble littering he street. There was a squad of Blastoise trying to put out a fire in the destroyed store front of the Stone Emporium. Several Gogoat were carting injured citizens away from the wreckage and to teams of medics, aided by a few Chansey and Blissey. It was chaos—chaos that was kept under control by the various emergency response teams on-site, but chaos nonetheless.

“Looks like more than just a theft,” John said to Sherlock, who was already trying to force his way onto the scene. John and Eevee followed suit, but the trio was stopped by a silver-haired man in a police uniform. A Butterfree hovered close behind him.

“Hold it,” he said, his gravelly voice firm and commanding. “This is a restricted area. Emergency personnel only.”

“I need to speak with the shopkeeper. Provided he is unharmed,” Sherlock amended.

“He’s being treated for some minor wounds, but I can’t let you past this tape,” the officer replied, casting John a suspicious yet inquisitive glance. Recognition dawned on his tanned face a moment later, his eyes widening. “Wait…are you…are you Champion John Watson?”

Man, it seemed like he couldn’t go  _ anywhere _ without being recognized. Although…

“I am,” John confirmed, confidently stepping forward and holding out his hand. “Good to meet you, Mister…?”

“Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, Lumiose City P.D.,” the officer replied, giving John’s hand a few strong shakes. “What bring you here?”

“Afraid I can’t say much. Official League business and all that.” The lie came much easier than John thought it would, and Sherlock was staying blissfully quiet behind him. “We’ll just need a few minutes to look around, talk to some witnesses, if that’s all right?”

D.I. Lestrade hesitated for a moment as if deciding whether or not to believe John’s vague request. Sure enough, he lifted the tape for them to pass under. ”Take your time,” he told them. “If you need assistance with anything, let me know. My officers Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson might be able to help as well.”

“Much thanks,” John said with a genuine smile. Sherlock gave Lestrade a silent nod. Eevee yipped at Butterfree, who she seemed to be having a conversation with. Butterfree trilled in reply, and Eevee darted over to her trainer before she got left behind.

“Impressive, Mister Champion,” Sherlock uttered as they headed down the street towards the Stone Emporium. Most of the civilian crowd had been cleared out already. Medical personnel and police officers darted about to secure the area.

“I don’t think lying is something you should be complimenting me on,” John said wryly, though he appreciated the praise nonetheless. He took extra care to step over a large pothole in the sidewalk. Eevee just averted her path and walked around it. Now that they were closer to the store itself the damage looked a lot more extensive. Broken shards of evolution stones of every kind, bits of wall and window glass decorated the street like some sort of strange mosaic. John swallowed. ”You think it was a bomb?”

Sherlock, who was already on the ground with a small pocket magnifier in front of his face, hummed. “A small-scale one, yes. Not a Pokémon.” The dark-haired man twirled around the scene almost like a dancer on stage, examining detail after detail and muttering to himself. John felt a little useless just standing there. “The question is…why blow up the store front for simple thievery?”

John shrugged, wincing a little when his left shoulder panged unpleasantly. “Beats me…is that why we need to talk to the shopkeeper?” The “we” came out like second nature. Like it had always been the two of them, perusing crime scenes and solving puzzles together. But really, John had nothing to with this. He was just a recklessly curious bystander at best, unable to resist the call to adventure, no matter how small said adventure turned out to be.

A bushy tail whipped the leg of his jeans. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, John shifted his attention down to Eevee. Her ears twitched and her head tilted as she stared up at him, almost like she was trying to read his thoughts. Good thing he’d never let her evolve into an Espeon, John decided.

“C’mon, girl,” he said, meandering over to where Sherlock was—over by an ambulance and talking to an elderly man who John assumed was the shopkeeper. He started to piece together their conversation the closer he got.

“—just broke the glass case, shoved a bunch of stones into his knapsack, and left!” the shopkeeper cried out, coughing a bit here and there. From minor smoke inhalation, John guessed. “I didn’t realize he dropped a grenade until my Gallade used Protect on me.” The old man spared at glance at his faithful Pokémon, who was a few paces away being treated with a Burn Heal by a nurse. He let out a hiss when the medic started sanitizing some of his cuts and scrapes.

“Do you remember what he looked like? Any distinctive features?” Sherlock questioned, staring intensely at the man in a similar fashion to how he’d stared at John when they first met. That must be how he was able to suss me out so quickly, John thought.

The man shook his head. “No…he was wearing a grey hooded sweater under a black jean coat. His hood was up. That’s all I remember.”

Sherlock nodded, his expression somber. “Ah. Well. Thank you for your time.” With that, he left the man to the medic and met up again with John, who’d hung back a few feet so as not to intimidate the poor injured, shaken man.

“Any luck?” John asked more out of propriety than anything. The way Sherlock’s brow furrowed, the way the corners of his lips turned down in almost a snarl, was evidence enough, even without the small snippets of conversation John had overheard.

“None such. People are rarely much help anyway, unobservant as they are.” Sherlock’s frown seemed to intensify just then, and John thought this must be a common occurrence—frustration with the general populace not being quite up to speed with his own brain power. Sherlock was definitely the most intelligent person John had ever met. He knew this even after only their brief acquaintance.

“John, were you listening?”

Oh, great, he’d spaced out again. Shaking his head, he apologised. “Sorry. What was that?”

“I said, we’ll take to the alleys. Our thief can’t have gotten too far.” Then, Sherlock pulled an Ultra Ball and a Dusk Ball out of his pocket and tossed them into the air. White light exploded from the spherical containers, beginning to take shape into Pokémon. When the flashes cleared, a Houndoom and a Gengar stood before—well, Gengar was more so floating in the air. John thought that these particular choices were…fitting, somehow, for Sherlock.

Without even a command from Sherlock, Houndoom began sniffing at the cobblestone street seeking out the scent of the thief.  Gengar hovered close by, watching his companion track down the smell. Then Houndoom’s head shot up and he darted off, heading north towards Centrico Plaza. With no sort of warning whatsoever, Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and dragged him along at a sprint to keep up with his dog-like Pokémon.

John barely had time to think about the warm, long-fingered hand holding his own when Houndoom took a sharp left towards Bleu Plaza. Sherlock veered them left as well, John tripping over his own feet as they went. Still Sherlock didn’t let go of his hand.

Gengar sped ahead of Houndoom, floating through the air and gaining altitude for a more skyward view. Eevee did her best to keep pace with Houndoom, speeding ahead of John.

They continued in a left hook until they were on the path southwest leading to South Boulevard. Houndoom gave a loud bark to get their attention just as a rustle of clothing disappeared down an alley.

“There!” Sherlock cried, pointing down the alley with his free hand. Gengar dove through the corner of the building and into the alley. The shadowy ghost vanished into the ground before reemerging from the stone, right in front of the thief.

John heard a surprised shriek as they rounded the corner into the deepest bowels of the alley. They reached a dead-end, where Gengar had the punk cornered.

They had him!

“Give it up! You’ve been caught!” Sherlock ordered pretty loudly despite how winded he was. At long last, he let go of John’s hand and gestured to the thief. “Set your loot down, and we’ll let you go.” Houndoom crowded the kid from the front, Gengar from the back. The kid looked nervously between the two Pokémon and their intimidating trainer.

John hung back, leaning against the brick wall to catch his breath and watching the burglar to see what he’d do. Eevee stood at his feet, ready to fight.

“No! You can’t have it!” the thief yelled, fumbling around in his pockets for something. He tossed out a Poké Ball. “Go, Manectric!”

Oh, so it was a battle he wanted? Well, John could give him that. He stepped up next to Sherlock, looking the kid square in the eye. “You sure you wanna battle, kid?” he asked, giving the thief one chance to back out and comply with their demands.

The kid stared defiantly right back at him, his Manectric growling at them. Electricity sparked in her blue and yellow fur. ”Bring it on, loser!”

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” John gave a one-shouldered shrug and detached one of his own Poké Balls from the chain on his belt. “Recall your Pokémon, Sherlock. I’ve got this.”

The look Sherlock gave him was almost disbelieving, but he did as he was bid and summoned both Houndoom and Gengar back to their Poke Balls. John stepped forward then, almost protectively in front of Sherlock, and tossed his Poké Ball.

“Steelix, I choose you!”

Steelix was so huge, he took up almost the whole width of the alley. The giant metal snake stared menacingly down at the opposing Manectric.

The battle began.

“Manectric, use Quick Attack!” the kid ordered. Manectric leapt into action, using the speedy attack to gain ground and charge at Steelix. But John wasn’t even fazed. Sure, Steelix couldn’t match Manectric in speed, but his power would more than make up for it. And his steel coating protected him from a lot of physical attacks. It always did.

“Steelix, Iron tail.”

The end of Steelix’s tail began to glow as he prepared his attack. Steelix waited until Manectric was within range. As soon as the electric-type rammed into his steel hide, Steelix whipped his tail around and hit Manectric head-on and sent her flying back. Manectric slammed into the ground, groaning as she tried to move.

“Get up, Manectric!” the kid cried out to his Pokémon. It took a few moments of struggle, but Manectric was back on her feet, if a bit battered up. “Use Fire Fang!”

“Steelix, Earthquake!”

The ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Steelix focused all his energy into this attack, narrowing the target field to just Manectric. The tremors hit the electric Pokémon square-on, and it fell to the ground in a heap, fainted.

John smirked. This kid was nothing compared to some of the challengers he’d faced as Champion. Victory was his.

“Ugh!” Manectric return!” the kid pulled out another Poké Ball and summoned a fearsome looking Staraptor. “C’mon, Staraptor, let’s split!”

Wait, what?! John’s smirk faded into a look of shock.

The kid hopped on Staraptor’s back and the bird took flight. It soared high above, flapping its great wings until the duo was out of sight, lost to the cloudless sky of Kalos.

“Damn it,” John muttered, calling Steelix back to his Poké Ball. He looked up to find Sherlock where the boy had just been, crouched down and picking something up off the ground.

“It wasn’t a total loss,” Sherlock said, examining a small Everstone shard with his pocket magnifier. “At the very least, I can procure these evolution stone pieces he left behind and find out if there was something special enough about them to warrant thievery.” A small grin tugged at the corners on the man’s lips when Eevee came over to him and started sniffing the stone shard in his hand. She seemed to sense its familiarity, giving her body a little shake to jingle the Everstone hanging from her collar.

John watched the scene fondly, pleased that Eevee seemed to approve of Sherlock. Sure, he was still upset about the kid escaping, but he had something more important here right in front of him.

A new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter, y'all! Here we start to delve a bit into the politics of being in the Pokemon League and such. This is also a chapter where we have an extended battle scene, and the reception of this particular battle is how I'm going to gauge going about other battles later on in the story. I hope it isn't too boring to read, but if it is, then I'll take care in writing battles differently later on.
> 
> I'm so nervous still, but here we go.
> 
> Not beta'd. Please feel free to point out any errors to me!
> 
> Enjoy!

It’d been far too long since he’d last been here, in his room at the Pokémon League castle. Almost ten weeks to the day, in fact, if he recalled correctly. Everything was different now—changed to make room for the new Champion. There were new sheets on the bed, the walls had been painted a different colour than the dark blue he'd picked out years ago, and the sofa out in the ensuite was brand new. The carpet had been swapped out, the bathroom remodeled, and the technology in the room updated to the latest models.

But the view out the window was thankfully still the same.

John drew back the curtains to let in some light, looking down at the expanse of scenery beyond the windowpane. His room overlooked the last stretch of Victory Road before that dreaded cave at the end. Oftentimes he’d find himself sitting on the little window seat and looking out over the horizon, wondering how many brave trainers would come knocking that day to challenge him for a place in the Pokémon League Hall of Fame. How many passionate youngsters would live up to their potential and actually beat him in battle?

Now, when he looked out past the square glass panes, he saw the new possibilities of tomorrow just waiting for him. This chapter of his life was drawing to an end—the start of his new chapter was way out there, far beyond the horizon.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Eevee ran to it and yipped. John followed shortly after, undoing the chain latch and opening the door to an all-too-familiar face that he was absolutely delighted to see.

“Hi, Mary.”

Mary didn’t even say anything, just stepped forward and enveloped John in the tightest, most loving hug he’d ever received. She was even careful with his shoulder, which he appreciated. He returned the embrace, slotting his head in the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her short blonde hair tickled his cheek.

“Missed you,” she said.

“Missed you too.” His grip tightened around her. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until finally John’s shoulder gave a twinge in protest and he had to let go.

He ushered Mary into the suite. She sat down on the sofa and Eevee was in her lap almost immediately, rubbing against her and demanding pets in that adorable way she did. Of course Mary complied, carding her fingers through Eevee’s soft brown fur.

Taking a seat in the chair adjacent to the sofa, John said, “Congratulations on making it this far.”

He, of course, was referring to Mary making it to the final stage of the New Champion. Only three of the five hopefuls made it past the previous round of battling. Now, each one of them would have to face John and beat him to earn the job and title as Champion. Three battles, three days…then it would be all over for him.

Provided that someone actually won against him. Mary was one of his Elite Four members, and had the best chance at victory. He had no doubt about that.

“Thanks,” Mary replied, letting out a tired sigh as she leaned back against the sofa cushions. “It’s been such a long road and I keep thinking—I’ve made it this far. What if I screw up in the home stretch?”

“You won’t,” John said with utter certainty. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend. You’re a talented trainer, and you’ve been with the League for years. You know your stuff.” He leveled her with a serious, stern gaze. “You’ve got what it takes. Don’t you dare think otherwise, all right?”

She flashed him a wan smile. “Thanks.”

Over the next hour, John and Mary talked about the goings-on in their lives that they hadn’t had a chance to catch up on earlier. Mary informed him that they were also on the hunt for a new Elite Four member to take her place, should she become Champion. The qualifications for Elite Four weren’t as steep as those for Champion, and John had a good idea of who he’d nominate for the job. His sister-in-law, Clara, was the Gym Leader back home in Goldenrod. She’d been keeping her eye out for a promotion for a while, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity for her. He’d have to phone her later….

Mary also asked after John’s well-being, which he was a little avoidant about but answered honestly nonetheless. He was feeling better and better every day, though he was also growing more restless as the days went on. At least he had this little three-day excursion to get out of Lumiose City and away from the daily monotony he’d settled into.

Well. Total monotony would have been a lie. Because there was Sherlock.

John told Mary about all his “case” with Sherlock—how they’d tracked down the evolution stone thief and John had his first battle since his incident. He admitted that he missed battling, and he felt bad that his team only got to stretch their legs back at his flat. It was an adjustment he was still getting used to.

“Do you think you’ll ever return to competitive battling?” Mary asked, still idly petting a sleeping Eevee in her lap.

John just shook his head. “No…I don’t think I could. After  _ that _ , I…no.” A small smile played across his lips. “But you know what? I’m okay with it.” And he was. For the first time since making the decision to step down, he felt…liberated. He no longer felt that niggling doubt in the back of his brain, second-guessing himself and wondering if he was doing the right thing.

He was. He really was.

Mary reached over and plucked his hand from the arm of his chair, holding it tight in hers. They shared a smile.

Now this was one thing he was going to miss. The comradery, being surrounded by his best friends in the whole world. His Elite Four Members meant a lot to him, even if he hadn’t talked to them much since The Incident. It wasn’t like he’d lose touch with them, though—there was always phoning them, and video chats, and who was to say he couldn’t visit every once and awhile?

Though he wasn’t sure how much time he’d have if he was constantly chasing after Sherlock on one case or another.

John blinked. That…certainly came out of nowhere, He hadn’t even seen Sherlock since that first case, aide from the occasional times the detective would drop by the Center. How likely would it be that Sherlock actually wanted John around on cases? He hadn’t given any hint to it at all…

“All right, John?” Mary asked, her voice laced with concern.

John shook his head. “Mm, yeah…Sorry. Spaced out there for a minute.”

The ice-type trainer gave him a soft, understanding smile. “You should rest. I’ll get going.” Mary prodded Eevee, waking her up enough to move her from her lap to the sofa cushion beside her. Eevee gave a yawn and curled up, dozing off again.

John saw Mary to the door, the both of them standing there silently and avoiding each other’s gazes. Just as John was unlatching the chain lock, Mary spoke up.

“If you need anything…” The rest of her sentence went unspoken, which was fine because John knew exactly what she was trying to say.

“You, too,” he replied, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Remember: don’t think too much, because that’s when you’ll slip up. Follow your gut instincts, both as a trainer and a friend to your Pokémon, and you’ll do fine.”

“And you,” Mary began, giving John a hard poke in the chest, “don’t go easy on me because we’re friends. I want you to go all out. We both hold nothing back. Deal?” Mary held out her hand for a shake. John took it, bringing it up and back down again with finality.

“Deal.”

* * *

The third and final morning found John sitting by himself at a table in the League canteen. He had his laptop open in front of him, navigating the touch pad with one hand and holding a half-eaten piece of toast in the other. He licked the small speck of jam from his thumb as he scrolled through his emails. Mostly unimportant League events and announcements, a couple from Harry asking after his health and begging him for a visit, and some junk messages which he flagged and deleted right away.

There was also an email from Mike.

Which was strange. Hadn’t John told him he’d be out of town for a few days on official League business? He was pretty sure he didn’t forget to mention it. Clicking on the message and waiting for it to load, John hoped it wasn’t Mike asking where in the world he was, why he didn’t show up for his shift, all that.

The text loaded on the screen. When John read it, he almost choked on his bite of toast.

_ Hey John! _

_ Hope everything’s going well. You’re kicking tail in battle, yeah? :) Listen, I just wanted to let you know that Sherlock bloke’s been asking after you since you left here the other day. I thought about giving him your number, but didn’t want to without your permission first. Would that be all right? He seemed to want to discuss something important with you, though he wouldn’t say what. _

_ Cheers, mate! See you in a couple days! _

_ Mike _

John read the email three, four times before the words finally sank in. Sherlock was… _ asking _ about him? As in, going out his way to seek John out, for whatever reason? He had to take a deep breath to still his pounding heart. The excitement that trembled under his skin made his fingers tingle. A bashful smile overtook his features before he could stop it.

Then his watch beeped, signaling it was almost time for battle. Closing the screen of his laptop and shoving the last half of his toast into his mouth until his cheeks puffed out, John made a mad dash from the canteen. He had to put away his laptop, retrieve his Pokémon, and make it to the arena in fifteen minutes.

It was time to face Mary.

* * *

Though he’d been battling in the Radiant Chamber for the past two days, John still felt like a stranger in the room. After not being at work for more than two months, it felt odd being back in the battle arena he’d considered home for the past seven years. He was a stranger standing in the middle of that stained glass floor, morning sunlight seeping through the tall windows and casting rainbows on the thick stone pillars.

John took a deep breath. He’d beaten the first two Champ-hopefuls already. If Mary won, this would be his last battle here. Officially. He was almost glad for it, battling here over the past few days. At least now, The Incident wouldn’t be his most recent memory of this place.

He sucked in another breath as the elevator in the middle of the room ascended, carrying only one passenger.

His last challenger in his reign as Champion.

Then…it’d be all over, and he could get back to Sherlock.

Mary took a few steps towards him, looking confident as ever. John could tell she was nervous, though—the slight pursing of her lips gave her away. Nevertheless, he smiled and gave her an approving nod. He straightened his posture and locked his hands together behind his back, assuming a confident stance befitting only a true Champion.

“Welcome, challenger,” he recited from memory. “Before you stands the reigning Champion of the Kalos region. You must be skilled to have made it this far to battle me.”

With a grin, Mary leaned her weight to one side and placed a hand on her hip. “Do you, Champion John Watson, accept my challenge?” She looked him dead in the eye, not backing down.

“With pleasure,” John replied, a strange and familiar twinkle in his eye.

The referee ordered them to opposite sides of the room. They faced each other at a distance, both waiting patiently as the ref explained the rules of battle. A large, transparent projection appeared, spanning across many of the windows in the circular chamber. On the screen, the name and photo of each trainer flickered to life. Below each of them was an empty six-slot list for their Pokémon, with a full health bar accompanying each slot. It was to be a full six-on-six battle.

Any small mistake would turn the tide of battle. Distractions could be disastrous.

John unclipped a Poké Ball from his belt, giving it a few good tosses up and down. Mary did the same. They stared each other down.

The referee raised his green flag. “Let the battle…begin!”

“Go, Breloom!” John cried, chucking his Poke Ball toward the middle of the arena.

“I choose you, Froslass!” Mary called, summing her ice-ghost-type to the field in a flash of light.

A disadvantageous first match-up, John thought, for his grass-fighting-type. Fighting-type moves didn’t affect ghost-types, not to mention grass’s weakness to ice which he was prepared for from the get-go. There weren’t a lot of options for him…

“Breloom, use Stone Edge!”

“Froslass, Draining Kiss!”

Breloom slammed his tail into the floor, raising rocks of several different sizes up into the air. He slammed his tail into them almost like a baseball bat, hurling them towards the advancing Froslass. The ghostly Pokémon dodged the rocks with ease and moved right in on Breloom, pressing a kiss to the mushroom creature’s forehead and sapping his energy. Breloom swayed on his feet until he collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.

Froslass hovered triumphantly over Breloom. A second later, Froslass stilled, wincing in pain.

Good. At least Breloom’s Effect Spore ability took effect, infecting Froslass with paralysis. That would be a big help.

On the screen, Breloom’s health bar had depleted to zero and his picture became faded, no longer illuminated by the backlit screen.

“Breloom, return.” John called his fainted Pokémon back. Not a good stride to hit at the beginning of the battle. He’d have to make a comeback soon or he was done for. He grabbed another Poké Ball from the hooks on his belt.

“Starmie, I choose you!”

The purple star-shaped Pokémon took form once the light from the Poké Ball vanished, its cry echoing through the Radiant Chamber.

Mary smirked. Even though her Froslass was paralyzed, she was ready for this one too, it seemed. “Froslass, use Ominous Wind!”

But John was having none of that. Starmie had the speed advantage. “Starmie, attack with Power Gem!”

Starmie summoned forth a horde of stones that shone and glittered like the finest gems in the sunlight. Spinning rapidly, Starmie shot the glowing gems at Froslass before she could get off her Ominous Wind attack. The gems hit the icy ghost head-on and knocked her out cold.

Mary winced. But this was far from being over—John knew that. “Froslass, return!” The blonde unclipped another Poke Ball and tosses out into the arena. “Abomasnow, I choose you!”

The large humanoid tree emerged from the Poké Ball. As soon as it was summoned, white snow clouds gathered along the high ceiling of the Radiant Chamber. Hail began to fall, buffeting Starmie and damaging it continuously. Not an ideal situation, sure, but John had a plan—hopefully it would work. Abomasnow had a weakness against bug types, so…

“Starmie, Signal Beam!” he commanded.

“Abomasnow, Wood Hammer!” Mary called out.

Starmie’s red gem began glowing brightly, calling forth its own inner light and aiming a shining beam right at Abomasnow. The snowy tree took the direct hit, but still remained standing.

John’s stomach tightened. He was  _ sure _ the attack would result in a one-hit K.O. Apparently, Abomasnow was made of stronger stuff than he realized.

The ice-grass-type powered up his own attack, a powerful swinging blow of his mighty trunk-like arm that sent Starmie flying back into the wall behind John. The star-shaped Pokemon slumped to the floor, knocked out. Its red gem flashed like an emergency signal.

John called Starmie back to its Poké Ball, contemplating which of his Pokemon to send out next. Abomasnow was already weakened by Starmie’s Signal Beam, so it wouldn’t take much more to knock it out completely. He didn’t have any Pokemon that wouldn’t be affected by the hail, so he’d just have to deal with that.

Mind made up, John tossed out another Poké Ball. “Go, Pyroar!”

A lion Pokemon with a great dual-coloured mane emerged from the light, roaring and taking a battle stance. He didn’t seem bothered by the continuous hail—the ice droplets melted once they came into contact with his warm fur, doing minimal damage.

If Mary was nervous with the new match-up, she sure didn’t show it. “Abomasnow, Focus Blast!”

“Use Flamethrower, Pyroar!”

Pyroar’s higher speed gave him the advantage. While Abomasnow was still preparing its attack, Pyroar let loose a steady stream of flames from his mouth, hitting the tree Pokemon square in the chest. Once the fire cleared, Abomasnow fell to the floor in a dead faint.

A smile quirked the corner of John’s lips. Fire was his best weapon against ice. Maybe now, he could turn this battle around in his favour.

Mary returned Abomasnow to his Poké Ball and called out to John from across the battlefield. “This battle’s not over yet! Go, Dewgong!”

Shit, John thought. Now  _ that _ could be a problem. But he had a back-up plan. He just hoped that it would work. Time to get rid of this blasted hail.

“Pyroar, use Sunny Day!”

Pyroar concentrated all his energy, giving a roar. The hail slowly tapered off until it stopped completely, the storm clouds clearing away. A bright light shone down from the ceiling, nearly as blinding as the sun itself. The stained glass on the walls and floor reflected the light, casting the entire chamber in transparent rainbow hues.

“Dewgong, use Surf!” Mary called out.

The white seal Pokémon trilled happily, summoning forth a gargantuan wave almost like a tsunami. The water crashed down on Pyroar, nearly drowning the lion creature. When the water subsided, Pyroar was still standing—weakened considerably, yes, but standing nonetheless. He had to get his next attack out quick, because there was no way Pyroar could withstand another hit like that, even with Sunny Day weakening the power of water-type attacks.

“Dewgong, use Hydro Pump!”

“Pyroar, Solarbeam!”

A high-powered jet stream of water shot from Dewgong’s mouth, aimed straight at Pyroar. Pyroar drew in sunlight much faster with the sunny field advantage but it wasn’t fast enough. Solarbeam barely grazed Dewgong before Hydro Pump hit Pyroar at full-blast, instantly knocking him out. Dewgong looked a little weary, but still smiled.

John recalled his fainted Pokémon, frowning as he thought about his next plan of attack. He hadn’t expected a move with such low accuracy like Hydro Pump to actually land, and that kept him in a bad position. He only had three Pokémon left—Mary had had the upper hand for the entire battle, though they were almost evenly matched.

Sucking in a deep breath, John called out his next Pokémon. “Go, Garchomp!”

Once the light faded, Garchomp stood on the field in all his glory, his bladed arm fins ready to slice and dice anything to shreds. It was a risky move, sending out a dragon-ground type against a Pokémon that was part ice-type. Still, John had faith that his Garchomp would prevail.

Mary didn’t look bothered by this new threat, if her confident smirk was anything to go by. “Dewgong, Aurora Beam!”

“Garchomp, use Stone Edge!”

A rainbow light manifested at the tip of Dewgong’s horn, but nothing came of it; rocks rained down from above Dewgong, barraging her with boulders of various shapes and sizes until she flopped to the floor, unconscious.

John smirked. Now they were three for three.

“Dewgong, return.” Mary said, calling back her aquatic creature. She let loose another Poké Ball almost immediately. “Jynx, I choose you!”

Another humanoid Pokémon with long hair, big lips, and what seemed like a dress emerged from the Poké Ball. Jynx gazed sweetly at Garchomp, which could not be a good sign.

In fact, that put John in a pickle, he thought, realizing the opposite genders of Mary’s Jynx and his Garchomp.

He had to act fast.

“Garchomp, use Flamethrower!”

“Jynx, Attract!”

Obeying her trainer, Jynx blew a kiss at Garchomp. The great dragon stilled mid-attack, eyeing Jynx with curiosity until a goofy, love-struck smile erupted on his face.

_ Shit _ .

Mary smirked knowingly, crossing her arms. “Now, use Ice Punch!”

Jynx moved in on the lovesick Garchomp, drawing back her arm in preparation for the impending attack. Fist covered in glittering blue mist, Jynx punched Garchomp with all her might. Ice shards exploded from the point of contact. Garchomp fainted almost instantly.

Jynx recoiled a bit, taking damage from touching Garchomp’s rough hide. At least there was that.

John called Garchomp back, his fist clenched around the Poké Ball. He shifted his gaze to the battle screen on the all. Every one of his Pokémon’s photo was faded out, and he only had two empty slots left. Only two Pokémon left to use.

He might actually lose this time.

But…the thought didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

With a somewhat sad smile, John let out his next Pokémon. “Go, Mightyena.”

The wolf-like Pokémon let out a growl as she appeared on the field, making Jynx shudder a bit. Good, thought John, it had lower attack power now thanks to Mightyena’s Intimidate ability. Still, Jynx could be a force to be reckoned with.

Mary held her head high. “Jynx, use Brick Break!”

“Mightyena, use Crunch!”

Both Pokémon charged at each other, Jynx ready to chop Mightyena in half, Mightyena ready to clamp her steel jaws on Jynx. Brick Break didn’t have time to hit before Mightyena crunched her maw around Jynx’s arm, fangs clenched tight around the trapped appendage.

Jynx’s HP drained fast; Mightyena let go and the psychic-ice-type fell to the floor, fainted.

Mary recalled Jynx and sent out her next Pokémon. “Glaceon, I choose you!”

The blue creature came out of her Poké Ball with an adorable battle cry. As cute as Mary’s evolved Eevee was, John couldn’t afford to lose focus now. He just had to take out Glaceon, then Mary’s last Pokemon, and this battle would be his.

“Use Fire Fang, Mightyena!”

“Glaceon, use Hail!”

Well, that was a familiar move. Once again, the Radiant Chamber darkened with snow clouds looming overhead, bits of snow and hail pelting Mightyena but avoiding Glaceon altogether. Flames emitting from her fangs, Mightyena went in for the kill. Glaceon dodged the attack once, twice, three times in a row.

John’s teeth clenched. How was he supposed to take our Mary’s Pokémon when its evasion level was so high? And with every miss, Mightyena was losing more and more health from the dratted hail. What could he do?”

“Mightyena, Dark Pulse!”

“Use Rock Smash, Glaceon!”

Waves of darkness pulsed from within Mightyena. Glaceon took some damage, but it didn’t deter her from her attack at all. Once she was within range, Glaceon crashed into Mightyena with enough force to shatter boulders in one blow. HP depleted to zero, Mightyena let out a weak howl before fainting.

Wearing a grim expression, John recalled Mightyena. He held his very last Poké Ball—his very last hope for winning this battle—in a white-knuckled grip. Then, he released it into the air.

“It’s all up to you now, Steelix!” he cried out with every ounce of fight he had left. The gargantuan steel snake roared in response, raring to go. The hail pelted him, but Steelix didn’t seem to pay it any mind.

“Glaceon, use Dig!” Mary called to her Pokémon.

On command, Glaceon dug her way underground, tunneling across the arena until she was right beneath Steelix. But John was ready.

“Steelix, Iron Tail!”

Steelix’s tail glowed, charging up power. When Glaceon resurfaced and leapt into the air, Steelix caught her with his tail and sent her careening back with a cry. Glaceon collapsed, fainted.

Mary returned Glaceon. She tossed her last Poké Ball out. “This is your last chance, John! Go, Aurorus!”

A large, blue, dinosaur-like Pokémon took to the arena, letting out a deep, echoing cry. The hail still continued, though it missed Aurorus entirely and damaged Steelix instead.

This was it.

John swallowed hard.

His next move could end it all.

“Steelix, Gyro Ball!”

“Aurorus, use Earthquake!”

John’s stomach dropped to his feet.

The floor started to rumble beneath their feet. Before Steelix’s attack could land, the force of Aurorus’ Earthquake forced him down, draining his HP rapidly until it hit zero.

It was over.

The image of John on the battle screen faded, just like all of his fainted Pokémon. The referee raised a red flag on John’s side of the battling arena. “Champion John Watson is out of usable Pokémon! Mary Morstan is the winner!”

John just stood there for a moment, letting the gravity of his loss sink in. He returned his fainted Steelix, staring at the Poké Ball in his hand for a long while. He was surprised to see a droplet of water on the spherical container; it was only a moment later that he realized it was a tear drop…his own teardrop.

He blinked back the few tears that threatened to escape his tear ducts, but it wasn’t sadness that brought them on. It was… _ relief _ . No longer did he have the weight of the Championship balanced on his shoulders. Gone were the days where he had so many rules and regulations to follow, where every detail of his life was planned. Now, he could be his own person, discover his own purpose without bearing the burden of such a heavy label.

He was  _ free _ .

Across the arena, Mary seemed to be in shock. She stood stock still, and for a moment, John feared that she might faint. Then she started laughing. She wiped the tears trailing down her cheeks, unable to keep them at bay for all the utter joy she was sure to be feeling in that moment. Her Aurorus bounded over to her, as happy as can be, and John couldn't help but smile at the sight.

It was time to go home.

He traversed the battlefield with lightened feet, as if he had been wearing lead boots for years and was just now able to kick them off and walk barefoot again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's only taken me almost three years to finish this chapter, but here we go.
> 
> This is the chapter that sort of gets the ball rolling on the main plot. We still have a looooooooong way to go, but we gotta start somewhere!
> 
> Not beta'd. I did go over it several times before posting, but if you notice any further errors, please feel free to point them out to me! Also, if you or anyone you know is interested in being a beta for me, let me know in a comment or message me on tumblr at chibistarlyte!
> 
> Enjoy!

John walked through the doors of the North Boulevard Pokémon Center for the first time in four days, feeling different than the last time he’d been there. After losing to Mary, his sense of freedom was almost overwhelming. And it hadn’t quite left him yet. He felt oddly at peace with himself, with his life, and he was happy to be back home. His new home.

This change within was apparently evident on the outside as well; as soon as he walked into work, Mike smiled at him from the front desk and said, “Have a good trip, mate?”

Nodding, John said with a smile, “Yeah. Really good.” Eevee yipped in confirmation before bounding over to Mike and rubbing against his leg affectionately.

“Ah, Eevee, I missed you too,” Mike said with a laugh, scratching behind her ears.

John couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. This life…without the pressures of the league weighing him down, he welcomed it now. He hung his coat up on the hooks on the far wall. “Since Mary’s Champ now, they’re looking for a new Elite Four member to take her place.”

“You don’t seem too bothered by that—Mary being Champion, I mean,” Mike said, eyeing John a little strangely. Eevee trotted back over to John, having had her fill of pets and ear scratches for the time being. “I thought you’d be a bit more…I don’t know, melancholic about it.”

John took his place behind the counter, signing into the computer. “I know it’s odd, but I feel at peace with it, I suppose. That chapter of my life is closed, and I’m okay with it.”

Smiling, Mike clapped John on his good shoulder. “Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re back, mate.” He turned towards the doors leading to the back rooms, but paused mid-turn and spun back around to face his friend. “Oh, I meant to tell you…hang on a tick…”

John quirked a curious brow, watching Mike fumble around in the pockets of his white lab coat. The pudgy man let out a small exclamation of success and held out a folded piece of paper, which John took and immediately unfolded. Inside, written in messy, scrawled script, was what looked like an address and a phone number.

“That Sherlock bloke dropped by again yesterday; he wanted me to give that to you.” When John’s face turned ruddy, Mike laughed. “I take it you got my email the other day, then?”

Nodding, John folded the paper again into a neat little square and stuck it in the pocket of his jeans. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Not a word. Just said he needed to talk to you about something, and that you should stop by his place when you have the chance.” A silence fell between them, then Mike said, “He’s a bit weird, isn’t he?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, John thought. But, he was rather excited at the prospect of seeing Sherlock again. Though, what did he want with John? Was it something case-related? The possibility sent a thrill through him, the same as before when they chased down the evolution stone thief.

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it,” he said sincerely.

“Anytime,” Mike replied. “If you need me, I’ll be in the back helping Molly. She’s working on some sort of antidote serum right now, better than the antidotes on the market right now; it’s rather neat, actually.” With that, Mike disappeared through the double swinging doors and John settled in for another day of work.

* * *

The day came and went—there were busy periods and slow periods, and now that it was getting towards evening, there was a rush of trainers trying to check into a room for the night. Through his entire shift, there was a nagging curiosity at the back of his mind, and now that he was off for the day, John found himself seeking out the address on the sheet of paper from Sherlock.

It wasn’t a familiar address, but John had a good idea where it was. It was close by—in fact, it was near the alley he’d followed Sherlock through the day of the Stone Emporium theft. Baker Street, the paper said. 221B Baker Street.

John slowed to a stop in front of a painted black door with brass lettering and a knocker to match. A nervousness gripped him then, his hand shaking as it hovered in midair on the way to grasp the knocker. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he was getting over excited about this whole thing, like he was ten years old again and just about to start his Pokémon journey. He was at a loss of what to do—what he  _ should _ do.

Eevee rubbed against his leg, drawing him out of his musings and facing him with a decision.

Before he could talk himself into it, John turned tail and ran back up the street towards North Boulevard with Eevee hot on his heels. In his hasty retreat, he failed to notice the pair of eyes watching him from the upstairs windows of the flat.

* * *

Two more days passed before John found himself once more outside the door of 221B. It was approaching late morning at this point, and John figured since he had the day off, he’d bite the bullet and find out why Sherlock sought him out so urgently. There was still an anxious fluttering in his gut, but he was never one to just run away from anything, like he’d done two days ago. He faced his issues head on, and this should be no different.

He felt a sandpaper tongue at his temple as Eevee, perched on his good shoulder, gave him affectionate kisses for moral support. Sucking in a deep breath, John steeled himself and lifted the bronze knocker.

One. Two. Three.

No turning back now.

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing an elderly woman wearing a floral apron and a kind smile. A Mr. Mime stood behind her, in a matching apron and with a broom in hand. “Hello, dear,” the woman greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Uh…hello,” John said, clearing his throat a little too loudly. ”Does Sherlock Holmes live here?”

The woman’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh…you must be John Watson, then! I thought I recognized your face from somewhere…shame about the incident.” Her face took on a sympathetic expression, but John gave her a small smile in return.

“Ah…it’s mostly healed now,” he assured her. “Things happen, you know?”

“Yes. Yes they do. Oh, but pardon me, dear, I’ve not invited you in. Please, come in and I’ll fetch Sherlock.” The woman stepped back into the flat, opening the door wide enough to let John in. Eevee immediately hopped off his shoulder and engaged in conversation with Mr. Mime, who seemed delighted to speak with her. If only John could talk to strangers as easily as Eevee could…

“Sherlock, you’ve a visitor!” the woman called as she made her way upstairs. John stood awkwardly in the entry way. So, this woman knew who we has…not surprising, considering his former Champion title. But from the way it sounded, Sherlock must not have at least mentioned him. But why?

There was shuffling upstairs, accompanied with a hush of voices that John couldn’t make out. That was followed by more shuffling, then stomping as a pair of feet clambered down the steps. Sherlock rounded the landing and practically soared down the rest of the stairs. John’s heart shuddered to a stop at the sight of the detective before picking up again in double time.

“John, finally!” Sherlock exclaimed as if he’d been expecting John, as if John were late for an engagement he had no idea was even arranged. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”

“Well, I…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “I was out of town for a few days.”

“And now you’re back,” Sherlock said as he whirled into his long, dark coat. “So let’s get going.”

“G-get going? Going  _ where _ ?”

“I’m investigating something and I need your help,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, wrapping his blue scarf around his long, pale neck. His silver eyes bore into John before his gaze shifted down to see Eevee pawing at his leg. He bent down to scratch behind her ear.

“Does this have anything to do with the stone emporium theft?” John asked, watching Eevee nuzzle into Sherlock’s hand. When she had enough scratches, she padded back over to John’s side.

“That’s what I’m hoping. Come on.” Sherlock then exited the flat, barely giving John and Eevee time to catch up with him as he took long strides down the street.

“Wait!” John cried as he caught up with the enigmatic man. “Did you find out anything since then? I mean, you did mention taking some of the stone shards…”

“Sherlock kept his eyes straight ahead, squinting them in annoyance. “The stones yielded nothing new. They were just ordinary evolution stones. But…” He closed his eyes, as if mulling something over. “I have a hunch, and I need to know if I’m right.” And he said nothing more on the subject. There was something Sherlock wasn’t telling him—like there was something more at play here, and John was getting himself involved in something much bigger than a simple act of thievery.

And John didn’t want to admit that he was excited.

As they rounded the street corner onto North Boulevard, John asked, “So…why do you need my help?”

Sherlock stopped suddenly, holding out his hand to summon a taxi and acting as if he hadn’t heard John. He seemed to be in his own world, detached from the things going on around him, within the confines of his own brilliant mind.

A taxi pulled up just then, and John scooped up Eevee and slid into the cab next to Sherlock.

“Where can I take you?” the driver asked.

“The Route 16 gate,” Sherlock instructed, much to John’s surprise. They were leaving Lumiose City? How on earth were they going to find any leads outside of the already vast metropolis? But John stayed quiet. After all, he was just along for the ride, wasn’t he?

Eevee looked up at him from his lap, curiosity sparkling in her dark eyes. John could do nothing but shrug at her and sink back against the seat. Silence reigned for the rest of the drive, both Sherlock and John lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

“What are we looking for, exactly?” John asked once they’d passed through the gates of Route 16, Melancholie Path. It was a bit windy and chilly today, and the autumn leaves crunched under their feet as they walked. John zipped up his black coat to block out the breeze.

“Have you heard of the Lost Hotel?” was Sherlock’s inquiring reply, to which John shook his head. “It’s an abandoned hotel spanning between routes 15 and 16, home to a roller-blading gang and some other rebellious street folk.” He paused meaningfully, staring at John with those intense eyes of his.

Thankfully, the pieces clicked together in John’s mind. “You think we’ll find the thief there,” he stated. If Sherlock was pleased with this answer, he certainly didn’t show it. Though John could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on the detective’s face.

There was an excited yip as Eevee got a running start, leaping into a great pile of leaves a few feet ahead. The red and gold leaves exploded into the air, raining down all over the path. John couldn’t help but laugh. At least she was having fun. Not that John  _ wasn’t _ having fun; things just felt awkward, and Sherlock wasn’t very forthcoming with the details of their little expedition. Still, he was curious to see if their search would come up fruitful, and it was nice to get out of the city and immerse himself in nature. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaled through his mouth, releasing whatever tension he held in his body.

“Ah! Here we are,” Sherlock announced after a while of silence and walking through the leaf-littered path. They stood before the stone frame of an old, derelict building of some sort, with parts of the wall cracked and crumbled beyond repair. Inside, there was a destroyed staircase that once led to an upstairs level.

John followed Sherlock through the tall, browning grass that grew through broken floor tiles, wondering how on earth they were going to get to the Lost Hotel from here. When he saw the hidden staircase in the back corner, however, it all made sense. Eevee stared warily at the steps leading underground.

Sherlock reached into his coat and pulled out an Ultra Ball, tossing it into the air. Houndoom emerged with a growl.

Eevee yipped at Houndoom to say hello, and he gave a bark in reply. The dog Pokémon then shifted his gaze to John, sizing him up before giving an approving huff.

John gave Houndoom a firm nod.

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said.

The four of them then descended the stairs with Houndoom at the lead.

It took a few moments for John’s eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting of the Lost Hotel. Once he could get a good look at his surroundings, it was obvious how the place earned its name. Rubble littered the floor, stones and concrete from busted walls and cracked gravel beneath his feet. The old burgundy carpet had rips and tears, and stains that smelled musty and a bit rotten in places.

Yeah. Definitely looked like a place where delinquents and petty criminals would gather.

Eevee and John gave each other a nod as if agreeing on something. Caution was utmost in a place like this.

“Come on, John,” Sherlock said from a few paces ahead.

Houndoom’s nose was practically glued to the floor as they traversed through the dim hotel ruins. Eevee kept on alert for any wild Pokémon that might show up. John tried to ignore the tightening in his chest every time he heard a suspicious noise. He was a little scared, but the thrill of the adventure kept him engaged and excited. 

John let out a yell of surprise when he walked by a rubbish bin and it began to rattle violently. In his surprise, he nearly tripped over Eevee and backed right into Sherlock’s chest.

“Shh…,” Sherlock hissed, raising a finger to his lips. “Don’t want to alert anyone to our presence.”

Easy for him to say, unbothered by anything, John thought, though he took a deep breath and did not make another peep. The bin stopped moving entirely and the four continued on their way.

There was some shuffling in the shadows ahead, heavy footsteps that didn’t sound like any Pokémon hiding down here. Houndoom stopped in his tracks, causing Sherlock, John, and Eevee to halt again as well. He sniffed the air a few times and peered into the darkness.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked Houndoom, his voice hushed.

Houndoom gave a fierce bark and stood on the defensive, growling, his pointed tail angled at the ground. Sherlock stepped up next to his faithful Pokémon, resting his hand atop the canine’s head. “Show yourself,” he ordered calmly.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, dressed in familiar ratty clothing. Sherlock smirked, almost sinister, while John’s expression spelled surprise.

Sherlock’s hunch was right, after all.

The thief had a Poké Ball out already, seemingly itching for a fight. “You ain’t turnin’ me in,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not without a fight.”

Sherlock tilted his head, almost inquisitive. I’m not here for that. I want information.

“What’s in it for me?” the kid asked, still on his guard. John and Eevee remained on their guard as well, unsure of how the situation would play out.

“In exchange for information, I won’t turn you into the authorities,” Sherlock said smoothly. The bribe came as a shock to John, but it definitely didn’t sound like the first time Sherlock had offered to make such a deal. 

The kid swallowed hard, seeming to consider his options. Sherlock and John watched him patiently, John hoping the kid would agree to Sherlock’s terms and give them some possibly vital information.

“Fine” the kid conceded, putting away his Poké Ball but keeping a wary eye on the pair staring him down. John eased his tension just a bit, Eevee following his example but remaining alert. “What d’you wanna know?”

Sherlock’s smirk widened just slightly into a smile and he returned Houndoom to his Ultra Ball. “Just a few things. Won’t take too much of your time.” The detective crossed his arms, guarded still but slightly more relaxed so as not to intimidate the kid too much. If he did that, they might not get  _ any _ answers.

The thief looked skeptical, but waited for Sherlock to continue.

“What were you looking for in the shop?” Sherlock said. “Evolution stones aren’t exactly a rare commodity.”

The kid bit his lip. “I wasn’t  _ looking _ for anything. I was...hired to steal as many stones as I could,” he admitted. He cast his glance aside.

John blinked in surprise and turned to Sherlock. The detective wore a satisfied expression—an expression that said, once again, his hunch was right.

Impressive.

“But who would need that many stones?” John interjected without thinking. “Doesn’t seem practical…”

“He didn’t tell me what they were for!” the thief protested. “Just...just that he would hurt my Pokémon if I didn’t do what he wanted…”

John felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. So, he was put up to this. Threatened, even.

“Sounds like him…” Sherlock muttered to himself. He shook his head and eyed the kid once more. “One more thing...names. What is your name, and the name of the one who hired you?”

“Why should I tell you my name?” The kid grew defensive again, taking a step back and reaching again for a Poké Ball. “You’ll just turn me in if I do!”

“I will do no such thing,” Sherlock assured, his statement accompanied by a serious nod of his head. “We made a deal, after all. I won’t go back on my word.”

“You can trust him,” John said, trying to be helpful. But he felt rather helpless throughout this whole process; all he’d done at this point was follow Sherlock around like a lost Poocheyna at his heels while the detective did all the work. Why did Sherlock even bring him along, anyway?

What faith John placed in him, though. Sherlock smiled just a little, but schooled his face back to business before his earnest and honest companion had a chance to see it.

Hesitant, the kid took a deep breath. “He never told me his name. Said he didn’t need me blowing his cover.” Another deep breath. “As for me...I’m Razz.”

Sherlock hummed, and John let out a breath he forgot to exhale a while ago.

“Well, thank you, Razz. You’ve been very helpful,” Sherlock said. John wasn’t sure exactly how helpful Razz had been, or what information Sherlock was even looking for, but he knew better than to ask any details until they were out of this shady place.

* * *

Razz pointed them to the Route 15 exit of the dilapidated hotel, which was closer to their location than where they’d entered on Route 16. Neither John nor Sherlock expected the deluge that greeted them after they climbed the crumbling stone staircase back to ground level. John took Eevee into his arms and drew his coat closed around her to try and protect her from the cold rain. He looked to Sherlock, who had also pulled his greatcoat closed in protection.

“What do you suggest, Sherlock?” the former Champion asked. “We can’t get back to Lumiose City directly from here, and with the weather…”

“Isn’t there a town or city nearby?” Sherlock asked, his breath condensing into little white puffs in the cold, wet air.

John hummed. “Laverre City isn’t too far from here, I think. We should be able to make it there.” He felt Eevee burrow closer in his sweater, almost in agreement. John hugged her tighter.

“Do you have any water Pokémon with you?” Sherlock queried as he pulled out a Net Ball from his coat pocket.

“Mhm. I have my Starmie, why?”

Sherlock tossed the Net Ball into the air and, in a brilliant flash of light, out popped a massive Cloyster. The detective gently pet one of the giant spikes on Cloyster’s shell. “Cloyster, help protect us from the rain?”

Ah, okay.

Following Sherlock’s lead, John let out his Starmie. It trilled to John, then to Sherlock and Cloyster. The two aquatic creatures shared a brief conversation before floating upwards to shield their trainers from the downpour. They both used the move Protect, holding the veil above Sherlock and John to block out as much rain as possible. 

Eevee poked her head out from beneath the lapels of John’s coat and yipped in thanks to Starmie and Cloyster for their help. John was so pleased to see his Pokémon continuing to get along well with Sherlock’s. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Lead the way, John. You seem to know this area better than I do,” Sherlock said with a small nod forwards.

Well, it’d been awhile since John was in this area, but yeah, he probably knew it better than Sherlock. The detective was a newcomer to Kalos, after all.

John led them down the route towards Laverre City. Finally, he was doing something useful.

* * *

It wasn’t too long until they reached the city’s eastern gate. By then, the sky was dark behind the rain clouds hovering over the land. Sherlock and John recalled their Pokémon to the safety of their Poké Balls for some rest before they reached the Pokémon Center. 

John had forgotten how beautiful Laverre City was, even looking at the rustic scenery through mist and rain. The bright, vibrant colors of the flowers scattered through the various ponds and manicured gardens were truly a sight to behold. And the great legendary tree in the middle of the city, with its rust and red coloured leaves, humbled all who gazed upon it. Even though this place was named as a city, with a league-ordained Gym and everything, the atmosphere was peaceful and inviting. What a relaxing place to be.

The pair made their way to the Pokémon Center in amicable silence. The double sliding doors opened as they approached the building—its modern architecture stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the quaint, older dwellings of the city. Once inside, Eevee squirmed around to free herself from the confines of John’s coat. John unzipped the garment halfway and out sprung the furry little Pokémon. She shook herself out, fluffing up the brown fur that had been flattened from her time cuddled in John’s coat. John knelt down and scratched the top of her head. She mewled happily at him.

While John was busy with Eevee, Sherlock went up to the front desk to speak with the attendant. John assumed it was concerning their sleeping arrangements for the night, since it was already so late, and decided to just let the detective handle it. He continued to pet Eevee as he examined the video phones along the far wall. He’d probably have to call Mike and inform him of his whereabouts, just in case he couldn’t make it back to Lumiose City in time for his next shift the following afternoon.

Eevee suddenly went missing from under John’s hand. John looked up to see her bounding over to Sherlock as the taller man strode back over to John. 

Sherlock smiled faintly at Eevee as she greeted him, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. Shame. Sherlock looked so...lovely when he smiled.

John did a mental double-take. Where did  _ that _ come from?

“I got us a room for the night,” Sherlock announced. 

“Ah, thanks,” John replied, scooping Eevee into his arms and rising to his feet. “Are you hungry? I was gonna grab some food from the mart real quick…”

Sherlock shook his head, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. “No, I’m quite alright,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

The two of them stood there in awkward silence, both unsure of what to say next. Sherlock dug his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at the floor. John stroked Eevee’s ears idly, pursing his lips and averting his gaze sideways.

“So, uh...I’ll go get some food, make a quick phone call, then meet you upstairs?” John managed, clearing his throat.

“Alright,” Sherlock assented. He paused as if to say something else, but instead turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

John watched him go, still staring in the same direction after the detective disappeared onto the upper floor. Eevee licked his hand to pull him out of his stupor. Inhaling sharply through his nose, John shook his head and made his way to the corner of the Center where the mart was located.

He grabbed a few snacks, some sweet and some salty, and a couple bottled drinks. He would have loved to have a cup of tea with this weather, but the mart didn’t sell any tea, unfortunately. John took his bag of purchases with him over to the phones, where he left Mike a voice mail before heading upstairs.

John made it about halfway up the steps before he realized he forgot to ask Sherlock what their room number was. Embarrassed, he trotted back down to the front desk and asked the attendant which room he and Sherlock had been assigned.

Take two.

When John reached their room, he gave two firm knocks on the door before entering the dimly-lit room. He waited for Eevee to come in behind him before he pushed the door shut. Before he could even set his bag of food and drinks down, Eevee was already jumping up onto the bed and curling up to go to sleep.

Wait. Bed.  _ The _ bed. Singular.

John swallowed and stepped further into the room, finding Sherlock sitting in a chair by the window. His greatcoat was draped over the back of the chair, his legs were extended and resting atop the small desk beside him, and his fingers were steepled below his chin. His verdigris eyes watched out the window as the rain pelted the glass, illuminated by the streetlights outside. 

Setting his stuff on the bed, John unzipped his coat the rest of the way and shrugged out of it. It was still quite damp, but not too bad, thanks to the efforts of Cloyster and Starmie. He hung it from one of the bedposts to dry, then toed off his wet shoes and slid them beneath the bed, out of the way. 

Sherlock still hadn’t spoken to him, and John had no idea what they’d even talk about anyway, so he stayed quiet and minded his own business for the time being.

He sat down on one side of the bed, one leg tucked beneath him, and opened a package of crisps to munch on. Funny how he never realized how peckish he actually was until he was eating something. It didn’t take him long to finish the small bag, and he was about to dig into the pastry he bought as well, but thought better of it. Keeping it for breakfast sounded like a good idea.

The saltiness of the crisps left him a bit thirsty, so he opened up one of the water bottles he purchased and took a couple long gulps. Ah, much better.

His eyes wandered over to Sherlock again, who still hadn’t said anything, still hadn’t moved at all. He was statuesque in his stillness, and if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, John would have thought him to be just a fixture in the room. 

What a man, this Sherlock Holmes.

John set his water bottle on the bedside table, picked up the unopened bottle, and stood. Hesitant at first, he breathed in some resolve and stepped around the bed to the window. Without a word, he set the water bottle on the desk next to Sherlock’s propped-up feet. He was careful of the small puddle where Sherlock’s shoes had dripped onto the desktop.

Sherlock didn’t even acknowledge the action, his stony gaze still fixed on the window.

Well, if the detective was going to ignore him the rest of the night, maybe it was best to follow Eevee’s example and get some sleep.

Returning to the side of the bed John claimed for himself, he drew the blankets down and crawled in. Careful not to hit Eevee with his feet, he curled in on himself with his back to Sherlock and huddled under the blankets in a lump of attempted warmth. He kept his body as close to the edge of the bed as possible without fear of falling off, leaving Sherlock room on the other side whenever he decided to hit the sack. John exhaled, letting his body sink into the mattress and his eyes slide shut.

“You can turn the light off, if you need.”

John’s eyes flew open. Oh, now he decided to talk.

John tilted his head up slightly, away from the pillow, to project his voice better. “And leave you to sit in the dark behind me like a creep? No thanks.”

A baritone chuckle sounded from the other side of the room.

The two of them were silent for a few more moments before John chanced, “What are you thinking about?”

Sherlock didn’t respond right away, so John figured that was the end of it. He shifted a bit under the covers.

“This case…” Sherlock trailed off. There was some shifting from the detective’s direction. “I’m fairly certain I know who’s behind it.”

“Who?”

A pregnant pause. Sherlock was a fan of those, it seemed. “Someone I’ve been chasing down for a long time.” And he didn’t elaborate further than that. 

Cognizant of Eevee at the end of the bed, John carefully shifted himself to turn around and face Sherlock. The detective was sitting in the chair properly now, his legs spread squarely and his elbows on his knees, chin still resting on his knitted fingers. “So...it’s someone you know,” he summarized. “Do you know why he’s doing it? I mean...why send a common thief to rob a store and blow it up in the process?”

Sherlock’s eyes squinted shut and he exhaled through his nose. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

It didn’t make much sense, really. Granted, John knew nothing about this supposed person behind the robbery. But, even without much to go on, it just seemed so...inconvenient to send someone to do the dirty work. Especially when said dirty work was something so trivial as a robbery.

John sighed. “Why don’t you come to bed? We can get an early start and hopefully figure some things out in the morning.”

Sherlock shook his head, his eyes meeting John’s for the first time this whole conversation. “You get some sleep. I need to think some more.”

Reluctant as he was to let Sherlock stay up much later, there was nothing John could do about it. “Alright. Turn off the light when you’re done,” he said, turning around in the bed, his back to Sherlock once more. Once he settled down, he buried his head into the soft pillow. “G’night, Sherlock.”

“Good night...John.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever to write, but here we are, finally. The main plot is gonna start picking up from here, so I hope y'all are ready for it!
> 
> My undying gratitude to the wonderful [Kat](http://hobbitunderthemountain.tumblr.com/) for betaing this chapter for me. <3 All remaining mistakes are my own. Please don't be shy to point out any errors to me!
> 
> Enjoy!

When John woke the next morning, there was a warm weight at his back and cold feet between his legs. It took him a few seconds to gain enough consciousness to remember where he was. The room was dim, with morning sunlight barely leaking through the cracks in the drawn curtains. 

Right. The Pokémon Center. Laverre City. He was here with Sherlock.

John was still in the same position he’d fallen asleep in the night before, back to the window. He tried rising on left shoulder, but it immediately twinged under his weight, and he dropped the couple centimeters he’d risen back onto the bed. The action didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping detective behind him much. Sherlock merely withdrew his feet from between John’s legs, curling in on himself under the covers.

Trying a different method, John carefully rolled himself onto his back, easing himself to a sit. His body protested at the motion, and he groaned as he attempted to stretch the weariness from his stiff muscles. He accidentally poked Eevee with his feet when he stretched out his short legs, reaching where she slept at the end of the bed. She let out a quiet sound between a mewl and a purr, stretching her own legs out from the ball she was curled up in. Her ears bent back, and she let out a little strained noise.

“Good morning,” John greeted softly, drawing his legs into a criss-cross position and reaching out to pet his beloved Pokémon. Eevee nuzzled her head against his palm and let out a huge yawn.

Deciding he would let Sherlock sleep for a while longer, John decided to go freshen himself up a bit for the day. He left Eevee in the room while he visited the communal bathroom at the end of the upstairs hall. He relieved himself, then moved to one of the sinks to wash his face with one of the flannels the Center had available for resting trainers. If only he had known they wouldn’t be returning home the night before--John didn’t have any toiletries with him whatsoever. Luckily, the Center also provided some individual packets of mouthwash, so that his breath wouldn’t smell completely awful. He gurgled the minty green liquid and spat it into the sink, watching it foam as it flowed down the drain. He turned on the faucet to wash the rest down, so the sink would be clean again.

John got a good look at himself in the mirror, noting his still-present dark circles and subtle-but-still-there patchiness of his skin tone. It’d been a little while now since the Incident, and he was already healed up from it for the most part, but there were still some lasting effects on his body from the poisoning that were taking a long time to go away. His fingers pulled at the skin beneath his right eye, and he could still see a slight yellowish tint to his complexion. His eyes still had a bit of redness around the iris, only noticeable if he looked close enough.

If this was what his face looked like, he didn’t even want to see his shoulder…

It was still painful to look at, even in his best of moods.

In that moment, staring at his reflection, John felt more tired than when he’d woken up.

But he pushed all of his brooding thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, steeling himself for a new day. He filled a small paper cup with water from the tap and brought it back to the room with him.

When he returned, Eevee was still on the bed, but certainly more awake and alert than before. John closed the door and knelt down, beckoning her to him. He set the cup on the floor and pointed at it. She rubbed against his knee before indulging in the water. He’d have to see if he could get her some Pokémon food from downstairs in a little bit.

“‘Atta girl,” John said, petting her one more time before standing and padding over to the bed.

Sherlock was still curled up in bed, burritoed in the sheets so that only his mop of black curls were visible, splayed atop his pillow. John wondered how late the detective stayed up last night, pondering things.

Still giving Sherlock a few minutes to snooze, John made his way to the window, leaning over the desk to pull the curtains back a bit. He let some more daylight into the room, pleased to see the rain from yesterday had cleared up, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. Hopefully, the weather would hold out long enough for them to make it back to Lumiose City.

John startled as Eevee hopped up on the desk without warning, knocking over the empty water bottle sitting there. Typical, always knocking things over, John thought with a smile. He picked up the fallen bottle and set it back on the desk. Eevee didn’t even notice, watching the world outside with her nose practically glued to the glass.

Well, there really wasn’t much left to do. Now would be a good time as any to rouse his companion.

John took the couple steps from the window to the bed, shaking Sherlock’s sheet-covered shoulder. Sherlock stirred, but remained asleep. John tried again.

“Sherlock, time to get up.”

Instead, Sherlock did just the opposite, burrowing deeper into the covers.

Lord, it was like trying to wake Harry up when she was hungover after a night at the Goldenrod Casino.

An idea popped into his head, and John turned to Eevee, who was still curiously peering out the window. “I need your help,” he told her, plucking her off the desk and setting her atop the lump that was Sherlock Holmes.

She looked up at John, tilting her head in confusion.

“Wake him up,” John instructed.

If anyone was an expert at waking people up, it was definitely Eevee. She walked up and down Sherlock’s side a few times, but he didn’t move at all. When that failed, she hopped onto his pillow and started nuzzling her face into his hair. He stirred, but only a little. Eevee then pulled out all the stops and crawled far enough under the blankets to start licking Sherlock’s face, her sandpaper tongue scratching his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose.

A muffled groan came from beneath the sheets. “G’off,” a sleepy Sherlock mumbled, setting his hand on top of Eevee’s head in an effort to make her cease. He turned his face away from the onslaught of licks, his head fully emerging from his blanket cocoon. Eevee yipped and jumped on Sherlock again, sitting on his bony hip and wagging her bushy tail.

“Morning, sleepy head,” John said, mirth laced in his quiet voice.

Sherlock gave an undignified grunt in response, rubbing his eyes before opening them slowly. Verdigris irises gazed blearily at John before closing again. “What time is it?” he asked, voice raspy and heavy with sleep.

“A little before nine,” John answered after a quick glance at his watch. “When did you go to bed?”

“Mmmn...don’t know. The sun was starting to rise.”

Well, that would explain the drawn curtains John woke up to.

Sherlock extended his already long, lithe body, letting out a small grunt as his tight muscles loosened. Eevee hopped off of him as he rolled onto his back. His eyes slid open halfway and he stared tiredly at the plain white ceiling.

John stood awkwardly next to the bed. “Did you figure anything out? About the case, I mean.”

Rubbing  his face with long, bony fingers, Sherlock shook his head. “It’s only conjectures at this point, nothing concrete.”

John hummed. “Any idea on what the evolution stones could have been used for?”

Again, Sherlock shook his head. “No, but I have some theories that I need to test out. I’ve been thinking, what if the stones could be ground up and used to make serums, or potions, of some sort?”

“I mean...I’ve never heard of anyone doing that, but it might be possible,” John said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. No more awkward standing for now. “If they’re crushed into a fine enough powder, I’m sure they could be used somehow.”

“But that still leaves the ‘why’ unanswered, regardless,” Sherlock sighed. Finally, he turned his attention to John. “You’re ready to leave, aren’t you?”

Scratching the back of his head, John shrugged. “I just...have a shift this afternoon at the Center,” he admitted. 

Turning his gaze to the ceiling once more, Sherlock looked thoughtful. “I suppose it  _ would _ be in our best interests to return home for now. I need to dig a little deeper into things before I decide our next move.”

“Sounds good to me,” John said, getting up to put his shoes on. “I'm gonna head downstairs. Meet you there?”

“Yes. I won't be long,” Sherlock assured, though he made no move to get out of bed just yet. John took his word for it and, with Eevee in tow, he left the room and made his way downstairs to the lobby. 

He hadn't seen the pastry he bought last night, so he assumed Sherlock must've gotten peckish and eaten it. John visited the mart again, buying a couple breakfast sandwiches and some food for Eevee to tide her over until they got home. 

The duo were enjoying their small breakfast when Sherlock appeared a short time later, sleepy but still dashing in that greatcoat of his. He ruffled his curls a bit as he descended the stairs with more elegance than a half-awake man should have, stifling a yawn as he approached John and Eevee. 

The blond held out the second sandwich he'd purchased. “Breakfast?” he asked. 

Sherlock shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No, I'm fine.” Then, quieter, “Thank you, though.”

Wondering if Sherlock kept denying sustenance out of politeness alone, John pocketed the sandwich for later. “You sure you're okay to travel? I know you didn't get a lot of sleep last night…”

Sherlock shrugged. “I've gone much longer without sleep. I'll be fine,” he insisted. 

Fine. That was always the answer, wasn't it? He was  _ fine _ . 

“Alright…” John said, not believing Sherlock a hundred percent, but unwilling to press the issue any further. He finished the last bite of his sandwich and looked down at Eevee seated next to him. “Ready to go, girl?”

She yipped happily, having already finished her meal. John took care of the small, disposable container while Eevee took the time to rub affectionately against Sherlock's leg. He gave her a faint, tired smile. 

Now that their business was done for now, the three began their journey back to Lumiose City. 

* * *

It'd been about a week since their investigation at the Lost Hotel and their subsequent trip to Laverre City, and John had seen neither hide nor hair of Sherlock the entire time since. He even tried calling two or three times just to see what was up, but his calls always went straight to voicemail. Texting yielded no results, either. 

So, with nothing else going on case-wise, John assumed his normal life once again. If Sherlock needed him, he knew where to find him. 

But…that wasn't to say John wasn't at least a little disappointed in the lack of activity. 

He poured his wheat cereal into a plain white bowl, filling it almost to the brim. Wetting it down with some almond milk, he carried his small breakfast the short distance from his kitchen to his living room. Eevee was curled up on the end cushion of the sofa, so John took the middle one right next to her. He flipped on the telly and changed the channel to Mauville TV, an international station broadcasted from the Hoenn region. At this time of the morning, Hoenn News Network was airing the news, mostly mundane happenings in the daily life of trainers. Currently the newscaster Gabby was interviewing yet another aspiring trainer she and her cameraman Ty had just finished battling on the road. 

John turned the volume up just enough to hear what was being said, but only paid half attention to it, lost in his brain’s morning fog as he mechanically munched his cereal.

The camera cut back to the two newscasters in the studio, as text scrolled across the bottom of the screen and a little jingle accompanied the change in scenery. “This is a Hoenn News Network special bulletin,” the female newscaster said, tucking some light brown bangs behind her ear as the camera zoomed in on her just a bit. “Locals in Lilycove City have reported increased suspicious activity at the abandoned Team Aqua hideout to the east of the coast.”

“That’s more than a little disconcerting, Ashton,” added the other newscaster, picking up his papers and hitting the bottom of the stack against the desktop to straighten them out. “Especially with the recent stirrings from other regions as well. We’ve heard mentions of activity around the abandoned Team Flare base in Kalos, as well as whispers of Team Galactic in Sinnoh...”

Ashton continued, “Right, Isaac. There have also been reported sightings of Team Rocket--”

John perked up at the mention of Team Rocket. Hadn’t they disbanded  _ years _ ago? He turned up the volume on the telly.

“--across Kanto and Johto. Some anonymous tip even mentioned seeing Giovanni himself somewhere near Blackthorn City.”

“But as you all know,” Isaac said, addressing the audience directly now, “Giovanni abandoned his organization over a decade ago, after his defeat at the hands of Red. The Team tried to again rise to power three years later, but Giovanni never returned to head his former criminal organization. Why would he return now, after all these years, especially after the failed broadcast at the Radio Tower in Goldenrod City?”

John remembered that day as clear as crystal. He’d been a kid at the time, on a field trip to the Radio Tower with the Trainer’s School when Team Rocket infiltrated and took it over. The criminals trapped his class there when they had the entire building on lockdown. Hours passed as they tried in vain to broadcast a desperate plea for their boss to return to head the organization.

When the criminals were finally defeated and chased out of the Radio Tower, John emerged from it changed, somehow.

Ashton shook her head, “Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, this can’t mean anything good. We’ll have more details as this story unfolds. Now, to Blake with the weather. Are you bringing us some sunshine today, Blake?”

Once focus shifted to the meteorologist, John turned the volume back down on the telly. The news definitely had him a bit shaken. Random bits of suspicious activity from a bunch of disbanded criminal organizations? Something was in the works, for sure, but John had no idea what--or who--was behind it.

Maybe...Sherlock would have an idea.

A pounding at the door shocked John out of his musings and woke Eevee from her slumber. She stared at the door, ears up and alert.

“John, open up!” shouted a muffled voice from outside. A very familiar muffled voice.

It was about time.

John set his cereal bowl on the coffee table and went to go answer the door. It was barely a second after he opened the door that Sherlock flew inside, his greatcoat swishing behind him dramatically.

Eevee immediately popped off the sofa, practically leaping at Sherlock in greeting. Though the detective seemed to be vibrating with impatience, he still took a moment to acknowledge the cheerful Pokémon and give her some pats on the head. 

John cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so,” Sherlock said vaguely. “Where's your coat?”

Bewildered, John pointed to a small coat closet near the door. “In there. But why--” The former Champion couldn't even finish his question before Sherlock was pulling John's coat out and shoving it at him. 

“Hurry, we've got to get going. We've a long travel time ahead of us,” Sherlock said. There was a fire dancing in his verdigris eyes, threatening to burn John under their intense gaze. 

“Hang on, hang on, what are you on about?” John asked, already working his arm into the sleeve of his coat despite his reservations. It was an interesting effect Sherlock had on him--he had no idea what he was getting into, but he couldn't find it in himself to say no. 

“There have been some recent… _ developments, _ ” Sherlock supplied, though the answer was hardly more forthcoming than his first comment on the matter. “I need to look into something, and I want you to join me.”

John was flattered. He still was in a place where he wasn't sure what sort of help he could be to the detective, but if is company was wanted, how could he refuse? 

“Alright,” he said, zipping up his coat. Eevee was at his side, ready to go. “Where are we headed?” 

A pensive expression etched across Sherlock's angular face. “Geosenge Town.”

* * *

Quite a few hours later found the trio traveling the route between Cyllage City and Geosenge Town. It was morning when they'd left, and now it was nearing evening, the sun beginning to set on the horizon and bathing the path in a warm glow. It was a real shame neither of them had a flying type to aid them and shave off some of their travel time. But even though John was tired, he still remained hopeful and curious about what their excursion would bring. 

Though Sherlock still hadn't provided John with many more details about why they were taking the trip in the first place, he did mention some of the suspicious activity that John heard about on the telly just that morning. Hadn't the story only broken today? 

“How'd you find out about all that so fast?” John asked Sherlock, trailing behind his dark-haired companion as they walked through the grasses of Route 10. “I mean…you came ‘round to my door literally minutes after the story aired on the news. And I know for a  _ fact _ you don't live that close to me.”

Sherlock replied, cryptic as ever, “I have…connections.”

John figured Sherlock wouldn't care to elaborate, as per usual, but to his surprise, the detective spoke once again. 

“My brother works in Rustboro City, for the Devon Corporation. Although, he does have his fingers in a lot of pies, as it were.” Sherlock's mouth drew into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed just slightly. “As annoying as I find him, his knowledge and inside information is invaluable, in most cases,” he admitted, almost begrudgingly. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of John's lips. “You don't get on very well, do you? You and your brother.”

Sherlock didn't respond, but the way he tucked his hands deeper into his coat pockets and hunched his shoulders up told John everything he needed to know. 

“My sister and I don't get on very well, either,” John said wistfully. He gazed ahead, watching Eevee trot through the grass. “She's family, and I’ll always be there for her, but we just don't mesh well together, I suppose. She's a handful, to say the least.”

Sherlock hummed. “Mycroft seems to think  _ I’m  _ the handful. I can't imagine why.”

There was a slight pause before the both of them fell into amused snickers.

This was...nice. Getting to know his enigmatic friend a little better.

Before he could think better of the action, John nudged Sherlock's elbow with his own. “Well, you're in luck, Sherlock. I happen to be good at handling handfuls.”

A faint blush dusted Sherlock's pale cheeks. So faint that John almost missed it. “Ah...good. That's good,” the detective stammered out. He tilted his head down slightly, hiding his face within the upturned collar of his greatcoat.

John couldn't help the bashful smile that formed on his own face.

Eevee yipped from several feet ahead, poised to attack. Her bushy tail stood straight up, fur puffed out in her alertness. A threatening growl came from deep in her throat. She was watching one of the stone pillars nearby--something was probably hiding behind it. A wild Pokémon? 

The lightheartedness from just moments earlier evaporated in seconds. “What is it, girl?” John asked, approaching his beloved Pokémon with caution. Behind him, he heard Sherlock click the button of a Poké Ball and out came a Claydol, whom John had never met before. So far out of Sherlock’s Pokémon, he’d only seen Houndoom, Gengar, and Cloyster.

Claydol hovered above the grass, its clay head rotating slowly, its multiple eyes taking in the surroundings.

“Claydol, Extrasensory,” Sherlock ordered his Pokémon. Claydol’s head stopped turning as it focused on one particular spot a bit further ahead, where Eevee had been staring and growling at... _ something. _

Without warning, there was a shriek and out from the grass leapt a Banette. It screeched at the two Pokémon opposing it, preparing a powerful Sucker Punch attack and going after Eevee. Eevee dodged out of the way just in time, causing the attack to fail. Claydol prepared its own Psywave attack, sending purplish waves of psychic energy at the freakish ghost-type. Banette screeched once more as the attack hit it head on. Once Banette recovered from the blow, it took off in the opposite direction in attempts to escape the battle.

“Go after it!” John told Eevee as he, too, began to give chase. Sherlock was right on his heels--with his longer legs, he might’ve been able to overtake John, but John was faster. Once they reached the outskirts of Geosenge Town, Banette simply...vanished. Poofed into thin air without a trace. Eevee skidded to a halt a few paces ahead, having lost her target. She sniffed the air, looking around as John came up behind her.

“Anything?” he asked his beloved companion. Eevee let out a quiet, almost defeated mewl in response.

“We should look around for signs of that Banette,” Sherlock said a bit breathlessly right into John’s ear, causing the blond to nearly jump out of his skin. The detective’s breath was hot on the shell of John’s ear. John tried his best to suppress a shiver. “I have a hunch it may lead us to something.”

“A hunch, eh? Care to explain?” John asked, consciously leveling his voice to keep it from trembling too much. 

“Later,” Sherlock assured, resting his palm against the small of John’s back for the briefest of moments before brushing past him. 

John and Eevee shared a look, and John’s cheeks involuntarily turned a light rosy shade.

There was a telltale sound of a Pokémon returning to its Poké Ball. Sherlock had called back Claydol and was now staring at John with his intense verdigris eyes. “All I can say is, I know Banette isn’t native to these parts, right? It can’t be just happenstance that it attacked us.” He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before tilting his head. “C’mon, John.”

Geosenge Town was a relatively quiet place, being on the western outskirts of the Kalos region. The town certainly had its fair share of tourism, with its historic stone structures and calming atmosphere. It was also home to giant crater, which held the ruins of Team Flare’s headquarters from years ago when the organization was still active under Lysandre’s command.

The crater was like a scar on the otherwise beautiful earth, smack dab in the middle of town. Gaping, silent, impossible to miss. A reminder of a catastrophic event that could have--would have--destroyed much more than this patch of earth. Though layers and layers of dirt had been packed in over the years, it was still possible to see bits of the underlying metal structure that formed the villainous lair underground.

Yet for all of that, Geosenge Town was still a peaceful place. It was easy to see why people would choose to vacation here, to get away from the hustle and bustle of the larger towns and cities. John had a hard time not getting caught up in the natural beauty surrounding him.

“Over here, John!” Sherlock called, waving him over to the crater. He ducked under the protective rope surrounding the perimeter of the crater, blatantly ignoring all the posted signs saying “DANGER: FALLING ROCKS” and “UNSTABLE GROUND” and, most importantly, “DO NOT ENTER.”

“What are you doing?” John hissed at Sherlock, still following the mad detective despite his reservations. He paused a moment, warily eyeing the multitude of signs trying to steer them away.

Hopefully they wouldn’t get caught by the police, John thought after he’d already gone under the rope to follow Sherlock. Eevee trotted carefully ahead of him, heading down the steep slope towards the bottom of the pit.

Sherlock was also navigating down the unstable ground, though his eagerness was evident in his careless steps as he practically skidded down the dirt. John had a hard time catching up to him, not wanting to lose his own footing and fall or, worse, get caught on some bits of metal. How was Sherlock doing this in dress shoes? He was going to get himself hurt.

Not a moment after the thought crossed John’s mind, Sherlock took a wrong step and his foot slipped, gravity pulling his lanky form downwards. With his good arm, John immediately reached for Sherlock, gripping his forearm tightly to keep the detective from completely falling down the slope. He dug his heels into the shifty earth and rocks beneath him to try and stabilize them both. Sherlock gripped tightly to John’s hand and wrist, using John’s steady weight as leverage to right himself. 

“Please, be careful,” John said almost imploringly, still holding on to Sherlock’s arm. “It’s dangerous here.”

“Being careful is boring,” Sherlock retorted, but cracked a tiny smile. John returned it with one of his own, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. 

Eevee yipped to get their attention, pacing around a small patch of dirt at the bottom of the crater, where the ground was a bit more level. She kept sniffing the ground and wagging her bushy tail furiously.

John and Sherlock finally let go of each other and, mindful of their steps the rest of the way down, met up with Eevee. As soon as they reached the point of interest, Sherlock dropped to his knees and pulled a pocket magnifying glass out, snapping the device open to examine the dirt up close. John, unsure of what to do, just watched.

“There are some particles in the dirt here that doesn’t match the surrounding earth,” Sherlock informed his companion, leaning further down to get an even closer look. “It more closely resembles the soil samples I have from Lumiose City, at cursory glance.”

“Think it was just a tourist from the city?” John asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, we can’t be the  _ only  _ ones who have trespassed down here…”

Trespassed. Oh, yeah, they would  _ definitely  _ be in trouble with the police if they got caught down here. Maybe even thrown in jail. John felt a shiver roll down his spine. Whether it was from the thrill of rule-breaking or the fear of possible incarceration, he wasn’t sure.

“Certainly not. But how many people  _ would _ come down here?” Sherlock countered, snapping his magnifying glass shut. “We came down here for a reason. I can’t imagine a lot of people would be coming down into this great pit for fun, much less anything else. Whoever left this soil must be looking for something in the ruins here.”

“How can you be so sure?” To John, this evidence they found was circumstantial at best, completely useless at worst. He knew Sherlock was a certifiable genius with an incredible knack for figuring things out, but this seemed like a pretty outlandish logical leap, even for him. What was Sherlock not telling him? “Plus, the entire area is caved in. How would anyone even get down into the--”

A shadowy mass flew out of thin air and plowed straight into John, knocking him flat on his back. He felt the air forced out of his lungs on impact, and he gasped in pain as his shoulder collided with the hard ground. The familiar spooky face of Banette stared down at him, its zippered mouth curling into an almost evil smile. 

John felt a pressure on his chest, making it impossible to draw in a sufficient breath. His vision started growing dark, and the air around him dropped in temperature. Shadowy figures surrounded them as Banette began unleashing a terrifying Night Shade attack on him.

“John!” Sherlock cried out, releasing both Claydol and Houndoom to take on the attacking ghost Pokémon. Eevee jumped in to protect her trainer, shooting off a Shadow Ball attack that hit Banette square in the side of the head. Banette recoiled from the attack with a screech, falling away from John and releasing its hold on him. 

John sucked in a deep breath, coughing as oxygen came into his lungs once more. He blinked furiously to erase the shadows from his vision, his eyes watering.

Banette disappeared again, though this time surrounded by the red glow of a Poké Ball calling its inhabitant back inside. Following the beam of light, John saw a figure in the distance through squinted, teary eyes.

“Sherlock! Over there!” John pointed, and Claydol and Houndoom took off immediately. Sherlock bolted after them, John soon behind them after fighting through the pain in his shoulder and picking himself up off the ground. Eevee stayed vigilant at his side, worried for her beloved trainer.

Plucking a Poké Ball off his belt, John tossed the spherical container into the air and called out his faithful Garchomp. With only a nod of his head as instruction, he sicced the ground dragon on the mysterious figure. Garchomp dug himself into the earthen wall of the crater and surged forward, his dorsal fin visible above the surface, marking his high-speed path towards the fleeing figure. John hoped that Garchomp would be able to cut off the person’s escape.

“Excellent, John!” Sherlock called out.

The person was reaching into their coat when Garchomp burst from the ground with a mighty roar, standing tall and intimidating at the ledge of the crater, blocking the person’s path. 

The person--a middle-aged man with glasses and a wicked smirk, John saw as they got closer--didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He pulled out a Poké Ball from his lab coat pocket and threw it, summoning a Sharpedo that went after Garchomp with its vicious jaws.

The shark Pokémon’s razor sharp teeth glowed a frosty blue, its breath visible in condensed clouds of cold. Sharpedo crunched down on Garchomp’s finned arm with its Ice Fang attack. Garchomp, having a double weakness against ice, roared out in pain before slumping over, knocked out cold.

Wide eyed and speechless, John silently called his fainted Pokémon back. Just who  _ was  _ this bloke?! 

John was about to send out Breloom to take out Sharpedo, but before he could, the man returned Sharpedo and made a break for it up the slope. Eevee took off after the man, prompting John to run after her.

“Try and catch me, Mr. Holmes!” the man yelled in a strange, accented voice, pulling himself up to flat ground just as Sherlock was beginning his ascent from the bottom of the pit. John was close behind, slowed down by the searing pain in his shoulder every time he moved it. Eevee kept by John’s side the entire way up, shooting him looks and worried coos, deciding her trainer was far more important than giving chase.

When John and Eevee reached the top of the crater, Sherlock was already past the perimeter rope. The detective looked around frantically for any sign of the mysterious man, but he was nowhere to be found. It was as if he, like his Banette, had simply vanished. 

“Damn it!” Sherlock swore, running a gloved hand through his dark curls and pulling at them in frustration. “Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…”

“Did you know that man?” John asked as he came up behind Sherlock, rubbing at his shoulder to ease the constant ache. He winced as he massaged a particularly tight spot in the muscle.

Sherlock, as always, didn’t answer. He merely let out an angry huff and paced around in circles, looking for all the world like a madman.

“Sherlock,” John said sternly, which grabbed the detective’s attention immediately. He stopped rubbing his shoulder and let his arm fall to his side. “Enough of this. If you keep hiding things from me, how on earth am I supposed to help you with this case? That  _ is  _ why you keep bringing me along, isn’t it? To help?”

A silence fell between them, blue eyes locked with grey. 

John swallowed hard. “Because otherwise, I imagine I’ve only been wasting your time.”

Sherlock’s face fell at that, and he shook his head. Digging his hands into his pockets, he steeled his expression once more. He pulled in a deep breath. Whatever he was about to say, it was obviously hard for him to voice. But John was patient.

Finally, Sherlock asked, “Have you ever heard of James Moriarty?”


End file.
